and "beat" the governess in another race.

"Clean hands! Smooth hair, and a neat dress for dinner!" sang out the
governess gayly.

Nan shrugged her shoulders in the dark and made a lunge at the
mantelpiece for a match. She struck it and lit the gas, swinging off
to the washstand as soon as it was done.

Suddenly Miss Blake heard a shriek, a rush of feet across the floor,
and then Nan's voice exclaiming "Great Scott!" in a tone that was a
cross between a laugh and a cry.

She did not wait a moment but hurried instantly to the girl's door.

Nan was standing beside the gas fixture, and in her hand was her
cherished hat--a ruined mass of smoldering felt and charred plumage.

"Nan!" exclaimed Miss Blake, horrified at the sight.

"I know it! Isn't it awful! I just slung it on the globe as I always
do, and--and--when I lit the gas I forgot all about it, and it was
ablaze in a minute. Don't say a word! I know you've told me hundreds
of times not to put it there. But I forgot, and--O dear! what'll I
wear on my head the rest of the winter? But it is too funny!"

Miss Blake tried to look stern.

"I'm heartily sorry you've lost your hat, Nan," she said, kindly,
without a hint of reproach in her voice. "You were so fond of it. I'm
really very sorry, dear!"

Nan checked her laughter. She let the hat fall to the floor. A sudden
impulse seized her, and she strode up the governess and took her by the
shoulders.

"You're a real dear not to say 'I told you so!'" she cried. "And you
haven't jeered at me, though I know you hated the hat from the start.
And now I'm going to tell you something--two things! First: I'm never
going to hang up my clothes on the gas again, honestly! And second: I
hated the old thing, too. The minute I bought it I hated it, and I've
hated it ever since."

Miss Blake looked up, and their eyes met.

"Good for you, Nan," she said, standing on her tip-toes to pat the girl
approvingly on the head. "Good for you! And now it's my turn to
confess. Wait a minute!"

She flew out of the room, and before Nan fairly knew she had gone she
was back again, and in her hand was a huge milliner's box.

"I couldn't help it!" she cried, half apologetically. "I got it that
day, just to please myself--and now you'll wear it, won't you, dear?
It's very simple, but it is of the best, and it will match your coat,
you see."

She untied the string, lifted the sheets of tissue-paper, and displayed
what