-year girls, reviving slowly from the
strain of the Tripos, consented languidly to have their hats re-trimmed
by second-year admirers, and so, despite themselves, were drawn into the
maelstrom. One enterprising Fresher offered items of her wardrobe on
hire, by the hour, day, or week, and reaped thereby quite a goodly sum
towards her summer holiday. A blue-silk parasol, in particular, was in
universal request, and appeared with _eclat_ and in different hands at
every outdoor function of the week.

In after-years Darsie Garnett looked back upon the day of that year on
which the Masonic Ball was held with feelings of tender recollection, as
a piece of her girlhood which was altogether bright and unclouded. She
met the Percival party at one o'clock, and went with them to lunch in
Ralph's rooms, where two other men had been invited to make the party
complete. There was hardly room to stir in the overcrowded little
study, but the crush seemed but to add to the general hilarity.

Ralph made the gayest and most genial of hosts, and the luncheon
provided for his guests was a typical specimen of the daring hospitality
of his kind! Iced soup, lobster mayonnaise, salmon and green peas, veal
cutlets and mushrooms, trifle, strawberries and cream, and strong
coffee, were pressed in turns upon the guests, who--be it acknowledged
at once--ate, drank, enjoyed, and went forth in peace. Later in the
afternoon the little party strolled down to the river, and in the
evening there was fresh feasting, leading up to the culminating
excitement of all--the ball itself.

Beside the Percivals' Parisian creations, Darsie's simple dress made but
a poor show, but then Darsie's dresses were wont to take a secondary
place, and to appear but as a background to her fresh young beauty,
instead of--as is too often the case--a dress _par excellence_, with a
girl tightly laced inside. When she made her appearance in the sitting-
room of the lodgings, the verdict on her appearance was universally
approving--

"You look a _lamb_!" gushed Ida enthusiastically.

"How do you manage it, dear? You _always_ seem to hit the right thing!"
exclaimed Mrs Percival in plaintive amaze; and as he helped her on with
her cloak, Ralph murmured significantly--

"As if it mattered what _you_ wore! No one will notice the frock."

At the ball there was an appalling plethora of girls; wallflowers sat
waiting round the walls, and waited in vain. Darsie felt sorry for