mock, with playful frankness.

"Well, it'll have to go as far as it may, then. It cost twenty cents.
That left five only for the white and gilt paper for my ruff and
crown."

"Was Queen Elizabeth fat?" asked Dorothy, from her now favorite perch
upon the high wooden horse.

"What does that matter, whether she were or not? The plot is to act
like a Queen when once you get her clothes on," observed Winifred,
judicially. "I wonder if you can do that, Flo. Or if it needs another
yard of cloth to make you real stately--she ought to have a train,
oughtn't she--I might lend you another sixpence. If Miss Muriel would
let me."

"Don't ask for it, Win. You've done so splendidly ever since--"

"That time I didn't! Well, I'd rather not ask for it. Twenty-five
cents was the limit she set."

"Wants to stimulate our ingenuity, maybe, to see how well we can dress
on twenty-five cents a week!" laughed Ernesta Smith, who had no
ingenuity at all. "If it weren't for Dolly here, I'd have to give it
up, but she's fixed me a lovely, spooky rig that'll just make you all
goose-fleshy."

"What is it? Tell," begged the others, but Ernesta shook her head.
"No, indeedy! It's the chance of my life to create an impression and I
shan't spoil it beforehand. It'll be all the more stunning because I'm
such a bean-pole. Dorothy says that Florrie and I must walk together
in the parade."

"Oh! I hope it will be a grand success!" cried Winifred, seizing
Bessie Walters and going through a lively calisthenic exercise with
her. "We've always wanted to have a Hallowe'en Party, but the faculty
have never before said yes. It's all Dorothy's doings that we have it
now."

A shadow fell over Dolly's bright face. It was quite true that she had
suggested this little festivity to the good Bishop. She had told him
other things as well which hurt him to hear and made him the more
willing to consent to any bit of gayety she might propose. She had
said:

"There is somebody in this school that doesn't like me. Yes, dear
Bishop, it's true; though I don't know who and I've tried to be
friendly to everybody. That is to all I know. The high-up Form girls
don't appear to see me at all, though they're friendly enough with
lots of the other younger ones. I heard Edna Ross-Ross saying to
another that all the strange, horrid things that had happened at Oak
Knowe this autumn began with my coming. She'd been told that I was a
charity scholar, belonging to one of the serva