A NIGHT'S sleep refreshed Kate, and she awoke the next morning in a much better temper with herself and the rest of the world. She now resolved not to be too rude to Molly, to cultivate Cecil Ross' acquaintance up to a certain point, and, if possible, to get the exact truth out of Matilda. She went down, therefore, to breakfast looking somewhat like her usual self. Molly quite cheered up when Kate nodded to her and asked Cecil a few questions with regard to the sort of night she had had, and also her prospects for the day.

"I feel a little nervous, of course," answered Cecil; "but I long to know Miss Forester. From all I have heard of her, she must be a wonderful woman."

"Miss Forester is about the cleverest woman in the north of England," answered Kate, with a little ring of her old enthusiasm in her voice.

"Oh, Kate, how good you were to me my first day at school!" exclaimed Molly.

Kate looked at her fixedly, and her brows darkened.

"Of course; it is one's duty to be kind to strangers," she said, in a careless tone. "Your friend, Miss Ross, will have no trouble at all, Molly, for you'll take her under your wing, and everyone knows that you are a prime favorite with Miss Forester."

"Why do you call Cecil Miss Ross?" said Molly; "and why – "

She stopped abruptly. Her frank but troubled eyes asked whole volumes of questions, but her lips were silent. Kate felt touched in spite of herself.

"The right thing would be to go straight to Molly and tell her everything," whispered conscience in her breast.

But she would not listen to it.

"If Molly is mean enough to repeat my greatest confidences, she may go," thought the proud girl. "She is all right now; she has got her dearest friend. She does not want me any longer. Catch me ever telling her anything private again. Of course she told, for no one else knows. Matilda could not have invented the story. Yes, Julia, what is it?"

"Can I see you for a moment after prayers, Kate?" asked Julia Hinkson.

"If you have anything important to say. I never looked at my notes last night, and want to work them up a little before lecture."

"I won't keep you five minutes; I – The fact is, there is something you ought to know."

"Very well; I will speak to you in the hall," answered Kate.

The girls had now to go into the dining room for prayers. This short service over, Molly hurried her friend upstairs, and Kate and Julia found themselves alone in the entrance hall.

"Now, out with it, Julia, for I am in an awful hurry," said Kate.

"It's only fair you should know," said Julia. "You've been so kind to Molly Lavender."

"Oh, dear, dear," – Kate put her hand to her forehead, – "why will people harp on my kindness to poor Molly? It strikes me that she has been the kind one to me. Now, what have you got to say, Julia?"

"Only that if I were you," said Julia, "I would not repeat things too much to a girl of that sort."

"What do you mean?"

Kate's face became crimson.

"Dear me, Kate, how mad you look!" exclaimed Julia. "I don't think I'll say any more. You can take a hint, can't you?"

"No, I can't! I hate hints," answered Kate. "Out with the whole thing this minute, Julia. What have you to say against Molly? What confidence has she betrayed?"

"Matilda is the one who told me. Matilda is making the greatest use of it: she's telling everybody all over the school."

Kate's brow was now as black as thunder.

"Oh, Kate, Kate, don't look so awful! you terrify me, you really do."

"What has she been saying?" asked Kate. She clutched Julia by her shoulder as she spoke.

Julia was rather a coward, and she shrank when she found herself in Kate's firm grip.

"Tell me at once what Matilda has been saying about me?" she asked.

"Oh, Kate, you do frighten me so awfully!"

"All right; come along this minute to Molly Lavender's room; perhaps she'll explain if you won't."

"Oh, I'll tell, if you don't look so frightful, and if – if you'll promise not to betray me."

"Of course I won't betray you, you little coward; I am not that sort. Now, then, out with it!"

"Well, then, Kate – Oh, dear, dear, how your eyes do flash! Of course I don't believe it, Kate, not for a minute. Matilda says that Molly told her. Kate, I wish you wouldn't pinch me so. Molly told her that – that you are not – of course you are– but Molly told Matilda that you are not a lady; you used to be a dairymaid, and you didn't wear shoes and stockings, and you are awfully poor. Oh, Kate, of course it's a lie! but she says that you are here on charity."

"That will do," said Kate; "you have said quite enough. Now, of course, I'm not going to betray you. Get along with you, and keep it dark that you told me a word of all this."

"But you don't suppose I believe it, Kate, dear. You will give me leave to contradict it, won't you? They are all talking about it."

"Let them talk," said Kate.

"But I may contradict it, may I not?"

"No!"

"Then it is – "

"It is nothing; you may not contradict it; it is not your affair. Go now, and keep your own counsel. Be off, and leave me alone."

As Kate uttered these last words, she gave Julia a little push. Julia was only too glad to leave the angry girl to herself.

Matilda Matthews was having a very good time in one of the tennis courts that afternoon. The tennis season was nearly over; the weather was getting even more than autumnal. Matilda was by no means an active girl; she disliked games almost as much as she disliked study. She was not a favorite in the ordinary sense of the word. Nevertheless, girls like Matilda can exercise a considerable influence over certain orders of mind. Matilda was the acknowledged scandalmonger of the school. Her tidbits of information, although, as a rule, by no means savory, were often highly seasoned. She had the reputation of setting more girls by the ears, of destroying more friendships, than anyone else in the place. Still it was thought best by the prudent members of the school to keep on Matilda's right side. Her friendship was not really valued, but it was considered safer than her enmity.

From the first day of her arrival, Matilda had taken a violent dislike to Molly Lavender. Molly had snubbed her, and Matilda could not stand being snubbed. She looked out, therefore, for a means of revenge, and an opportunity arose all too quickly. Matilda was the sort of girl who could sneak and spy. She had almost a genius for this sort of dirty work. Her ugly little person was constantly seen where no one expected to find her. She cultivated her talents with assiduity, for by these means she acquired power over her fellow-students. On a certain occasion, about a week ago, Kate and Molly had taken a long walk together. On their return home they had entered the extensive recreation grounds which belonged alike to all the houses of residence. They were both tired, and walking across the wide field, had entered the little summerhouse where the cricket bats, tennis bats, and other implements of sport were kept. They sat down together, and began to talk.

It was on this occasion that Kate had been drawn out to speak of her early home. It was then that she had first mentioned her old grandfather, the summer evenings, the cows and horses, and all the precious things of her vanished childhood. She had spoken with feeling, and Molly had given her a whole world of sympathy. Neither of the girls knew that Matilda, who happened to be alone in this part of the grounds, had crept to the back of the summerhouse, and deliberately listened to their conversation.

The summerhouse was built of wood; there was a hole in a certain notch, and to this hole Matilda applied her rosy ear. She heard everything, and metaphorically clapped her hands with delight. Now, indeed, she was possessed of a dangerous weapon. It was within her power to sever a friendship which she detested, and to humble proud Kate O'Connor in the eyes of all her companions. Matilda was too clever not to go warily to work. It would never do for the girls of the school to find out that she had gained her information by eavesdropping; she must draw Molly out to drop a hint or two with regard to Kate. By the aid of this hint, and her own perfect knowledge, Matilda could soon set a ball of gossip and ill-will rolling through the place.

The next day, at lecture, she tried to make herself agreeable to Molly. She was generally so spiteful that the change in her conduct could not but be hailed with relief.

"How splendidly you are getting on!" said Matilda, when the lecture had come to an end. "I did not think you would at first, but now I see that you are very clever."

"That is not the case," answered Molly, in her blunt way. "I have simply got the most average abilities; but the fact is, a girl must be very stupid who does not improve in the atmosphere of such a place as this."

"You talk like a book," said Matilda. "Well, there is one thing I do envy you."

"What is that?" asked Molly.

"Your friendship with Kate O'Connor."

"Do you?" replied Molly. "I am glad you can appreciate her; there is not a girl in the school like her."

"I will tell you what I think about her," said Matilda slowly. She avoided Molly's eyes as she spoke. "She is so completely out of the common that she must have had quite an uncommon life. I should not be a bit surprised if she were one of those brave girls who have known poverty, and have risen above it. I should call her, if I were asked, one of nature's ladies. After all, nature does make noble, queen-like sort of women now and then, whatever their position in life. Is that not true, Molly Lavender?"

"Yes, it is perfectly true," answered Molly, wondering at Matilda's discernment. "There is no one in the school I respect like Kate."

"Do you think I have gauged her character correctly?" asked Matilda, in her softest tones.

"You have, Matilda, quite wonderfully."

"She is one of nature's ladies, is she not?"

"Indeed she is."

"She has known poverty, and has risen above it?"

"Yes, she has had a noble life," answered Molly. "I am so glad you appreciate her."

"I long for her friendship," said Matilda, with a sigh; "but alas! it is not for me; she would despise a girl of my sort."

"Not if you lived up to her," said Molly, turning round and gazing full at Matilda's low-class face.

Something in the expression of the bad girl's eyes caused Molly to recoil and draw into her shell. But she had said quite enough for Matilda's purpose, and the scandal which was to wreck a beautiful friendship began to circulate through the school on that very afternoon.

CHAPTER XII.
KATE'S LITTLE PLAN

AFTER morning lectures on the first day of Cecil Ross' arrival at Redgarth, Kate O'Connor walked suddenly into the classroom where Matilda was putting up her books. As a rule, Kate did not take the slightest notice of Matilda. Now she walked straight to her side, and asked if she were going back to dinner.

"Yes," replied Matilda, drawing up her little squat person, and trying to look imposing and not frightened; for Matilda, like many other people of her special genus, could be a rare coward on certain occasions. "Yes," she said; "why not?" She tried to throw a pert tone into her voice.

"Why not, of course," replied Kate, standing very upright, and tall, and handsome by her side. "I also am going back to dinner, and as our road home lies part of the way together, shall we start at once?"

"But you don't really want to walk with me?" said Matilda, shrinking back.

"On this occasion I happen to wish to walk with you," said Kate. "I have something to ask you."

"Oh!"

Matilda's freckled face became mottled. She stooped down under the pretense of tying her shoe.

"I am in a great hurry," she said. "Will not this afternoon do?"

"No, it will not do. I shan't take up any of your valuable time. I shall simply walk with you across the quadrangle. Now, come on, or some other girls will join us."

"But I promised to walk with Rosy Merton."

"Rosy Merton must look for another companion. Come, Matilda, I shall think you have reasons for shirking my society if you make any more excuses."

"How could you possibly think that?" said Matilda, with a little nervous laugh. "Everyone knows that to be seen walking with Kate O'Connor is a distinction."

Kate made no response.

"Are you ready?" she said.

Matilda shouldered her bag of books, and the two girls left the school together.

Several curious pairs of eyes saw them go, and the news began to circulate through the class room that Matilda was going to get her deserts from Kate. Matilda's story with regard to Kate was now known to every girl at St. Dorothy's. They listened to the envious, wicked girl's spiteful words with avidity, disliking her cordially all the time, and feeling rather more interested in Kate than they had done hitherto.

Julia Hinkson was one of the girls who saw the pair walk off together, and Julia felt her heart sink down into her boots, as she expressed it.

"Now," said Kate, when they had got beyond the school precincts, "I want to ask you a very plain question, Matilda. Oh, you need not turn away, for I am determined to ask it! Pray slacken your steps; there is no hurry."

"There is. I have a great lot of work to get through," mumbled Matilda. "I thought I could get five minutes before dinner to work up my French verbs. I am going to try for the governors' scholarship, you know, Kate."

Kate made no response for a minute. Then she said in a slow, deliberate voice, which she scarcely recognized as her own: "I am not interested in your studies, Matilda; if I know anything about you, your path and mine in life will always be far apart. I have asked you to walk with me to-day because I have heard a report which troubles me very much. About three weeks ago I happened to tell certain facts with regard to my early life to my friend, Molly Lavender. The story I told her has now, it appears, become common property at St. Dorothy's. More than one girl has told me this. No, excuse me, I do not intend to mention names. In each case I am told that you are responsible for the report which has been circulated about me; I am told, further, that you have got your information from Molly. I want to know if this is the case."

Matilda did not speak at all for a moment.

"Is it true, Matilda?"

"Why do you ask me?" replied Miss Matthews, giving her fat shoulder a little shrug. "Your action and manner tell me all too plainly that you have not a spark of respect for me. If I were to tell you, would you believe me?"

It was now Kate's turn to be silent.

"If you do not intend to believe me, what is the use of my speaking?" continued Matilda.

"On this occasion I think I must believe you," answered Kate.

"Very well; repeat your question."

"Did you hear the report about me from Molly Lavender?"

"Yes."

Kate felt herself turning pale. A cold dew stood out on her forehead; she pressed her hand with a quick movement to her heart.

"I said I'd believe you," she answered, after a pause. "I will not press for further confidence. Our roads divide here. Good-morning!"

Kate rushed off to St. Dorothy's.

She appeared at dinner with flushed cheeks and bright eyes. Her manner had undergone a complete revolution. She was no longer stiff nor defiant. She addressed herself almost as much as formerly to Molly, who received her first advances with delight, but presently turned away her head with a sigh. This voluble, excitable Kate was not the Kate O'Connor of old. A certain element which had made her slightest remark delightful had left her voice. Molly thought, as she listened to her gay and excited words, that she would rather have her silent and distant. But Cecil, who did not know Kate, and the other girls at the dinner table were charmed to have her bright and cheerful once more.

When the meal came to an end, Kate rushed off to find Miss Leicester.

"I want to ask a great favor of you, Miss Leicester," exclaimed the girl.

"What is that, my dear?"

"My birthday will be on Saturday. I shall be seventeen on that occasion; I want to know if I may celebrate the event by a little party, to which I want to ask all my friends and acquaintances belonging to the school."

Miss Leicester considered for a moment.

"We don't much care to have entertainments of that sort during term," she said.

"Yes; but this is a most special occasion. I do beg of you to let me have it."

"Where do you propose to entertain your friends, Kate?"

"I think Hester Temple will let me use her room; it is a good large one."

"My dear, I can't, of course, really object. You want to have a little supper?"

"Yes; if I may."

"You may, Kate; you are a good girl; we all like you, and I am not going to refuse the first request you have ever asked me."

"Thank you a thousand times! How truly kind you are! Will you add to the favor you are conferring on me by being one of my guests?"

"If you really wish it, of course, my dear; but will it not spoil the fun?"

"I don't think there will be much fun."

"What do you mean?"

"Will you come, Miss Leicester? I really can't explain myself."

"Kate, you don't look happy. Is anything the matter, my dear child?"

"You will know if you come on Saturday. Of course there is nothing the matter – I mean nothing of consequence. Please come! I am Irish; I am subject to moods – to many moods."

"Yes, I will come, Kate. Have you got money for your little entertainment?"

"I have an unbroken sovereign in my purse – more than enough. Thank you a thousand times for giving me leave."

Kate went off with her head in the air. She met Hester coming downstairs.

"Hetty," she cried, running up to her, "I am going to have a birthday on Saturday!"

"Are you indeed, Kate? and how bright you look!"

"Why not? Have you any objection?"

"No, I am sure I have not," replied Hester heartily. "I am only too delighted. I felt like cutting out my tongue, Katy, for having told you what I did last night."

"Oh, I don't bother myself with reports like that!" replied Kate, in a low tone. "Most people have gossip spread about them."

"Then you are not going to quarrel with Molly Lavender?"

"Quarrel with her? Certainly not. Hetty, I want to ask you a favor."

"What is it?"

"I want to celebrate my birthday."

"Indeed, lucky you! have you got money?"

"Yes; an unbroken sovereign. I mean to give a feast."

"Delicious! Bon-bons, do you mean?"

"More than bon-bons. I thought of lemonade, sandwiches, ginger-beer, chocolate, cakes."

"Nectar for the gods!" cried Hester, with enthusiasm.

"I spoke to Miss Leicester, and she has given me permission," continued Kate.

"Oh, the angel!" exclaimed Hester. "Then it is not going to be a case of stolen sweets; eh, Kate?"

"No; it is to be all rectitude, noble example, true hospitality; the most aboveboard sort of thing in existence."

"It won't be such fun as if there were a little spice of wickedness in it," quoth Hester.

"Hetty, you shock me! I shall be seventeen on Saturday. At seventeen one ought to discard wickedness as one would a worn-out shell."

"All right, love! Of course I approve, but did you not say that you wanted to ask me a favor?"

"Rather; I want you to lend me your room for the great occasion."

"Of course I will; what is more, I will help you by every means in my power. Of course Molly is coming to the birthday feast?"

"Of course she is; she is to be one of my most distinguished guests."

"And that new girl, Cecil Ross?"

"She shall also be invited; Molly shall not be deprived of her dear friend's society."

"Kate, I am certain you are jealous of Cecil Ross."

"Furiously jealous," answered Kate, with a light laugh.

"Oh, but you needn't be! Molly loves you; she was crying about you this morning."

"What a very unpleasant thing to tell me!" said Kate. "Am I in such a deplorable condition, in either mind or body, as to require tears?"

Hester opened her lips to speak, but Kate suddenly clapped her hand across her mouth.

"Not a word more, Hetty," she exclaimed; "I have really no time to consider Molly Lavender's feelings at the present moment. I mean to ask all the girls whom I know to my birthday feast, even Matilda Matthews."

"Oh, that horrid creature! I wouldn't if I were you."

"You would if you were me."

"But surely you are not going to take up a girl of that sort?"

"Did I say so?"

"No; but to ask her to your party!"

"That is no special sign of friendship," replied Kate; "both friends and acquaintances are to be invited. Well, this is Wednesday, and I have no more time to spare. I must go to my cubicle now to write invitations."

Kate ran off.

That afternoon the girls at St. Dorothy's, and several girls in other houses of residence, received short letters from Kate O'Connor. The letters ran as follows:

"Kate O'Connor requests the pleasure of your company to a birthday supper on the twentieth inst., at eight o'clock.

"r. s.v.p."

Molly found her invitation lying on the top of her bureau; there was one also for Cecil. The girls began to talk and wonder, but Kate kept her own counsel. Her eyes were brighter than usual, and she held herself more aloof than of old. All the girls to whom the invitations had been sent longed for Saturday – all, with the exception of Matilda Matthews. Matilda was devoured with curiosity, she was proud of being invited; but mixed with her pride and her sensations of curiosity was a strange, incomprehensible feeling of fear.

So many girls accepted the invitation that Hester's room was discovered to be quite too small for the festive occasion. A good-natured neighbor, however, Lucy Anderson by name, came unexpectedly to the rescue. She suggested that the supper should be in her room, and that the guests should assemble in Hester's. This could be easily managed, for the two rooms had communicating doors. Kate was now very busy, and Hester became her right hand.

A week ago she would have consulted Molly with regard to all the arrangements for her birthday party; now Hester was the favored one. Kate was in her gayest, most débonnaire mood. Her Irish wit rose to fever point; she kept those girls with whom she chose to be intimate in ceaseless giggles and wild peals of mirth. As she scattered her bon-mots, she scarcely laughed herself, but the light in her sparkling eyes was infectious, and the smiles which came at rare intervals, and showed her pearly white teeth, had something fascinating about them. Hester was alone in the secret with regard to the capacities of Kate's sovereign. Hester was clever with regard to the laying out of a limited sum of money. Between twenty and thirty girls had accepted Kate's invitation. Girls of the ages of from fourteen to seventeen are proverbial for healthy appetites; wise Hester therefore suggested that the cakes should be plain and abundant, rather than rich and scanty; that the lemonade should not be made entirely with fresh lemons; in short, that several little economies should be practiced in order to make the feast, if simple, full and plenty.

There was no hitch in the arrangements. Each girl was requested to bring her own cup and saucer, her own spoon, plate, and glass. When the hour arrived, Hester met the invited guests at the door, and quickly relieved them of these little accessories to the feast. Laughter, talk, and high good-humor marked the auspicious hour. Kate herself, the acknowledged queen of the evening, was one of the last to appear. This fact rather astonished Hester, who, although behind the scenes in one sense of the word, was completely in the dark as to Kate's real motive for calling her friends together. She walked into Hester Temple's pretty rooms when they were quite full, and nodded to her assembled friends with a bright smile and a word of welcome. Her dress on this occasion annoyed more than one. It consisted of a cotton blouse and a short dark-blue serge skirt. The blouse was slightly old-fashioned in make, and looked as if it had often visited the washtub. Kate's luxuriant hair was arranged more simply than on ordinary occasions, her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were wonderfully bright; she wore neat black stockings, and a stout little pair of shoes.

"Dear me, Kate, what a funny costume!" said Lucy Anderson. "Why, you look exactly as if you were dressing up to do the part of a dairymaid."

"Well, it's a very good part to do, isn't it?" said Kate.

She laughed merrily, and, going into the supper room, began to help Hester in dispensing the viands. Matilda Matthews, who was sitting near one of the doors, looked strangely uncomfortable when Kate came in; she felt somehow as if Kate were laughing at her. She did not like that dairymaid dress, and wondered if she could quietly escape without anyone noticing her exit.

The thought had scarcely darted through her mind before Kate approached her.

"I am so glad to see you," she said; "you must not sit there by the door; you are a stranger in this house, and as a stranger, I wish to show you special attention. Pray come up and sit here. You won't! Oh, yes, I am sure you will, to oblige me! Here's our new girl, Cecil Ross. I will introduce you to Miss Ross; she is a very distinguished-looking girl, and will make her mark at St. Dorothy's. You always like to be in the swim; don't you, Matilda? Well, you ought to know Cecil. Come, I shall have pleasure in making you both acquainted with each other."

Matilda found herself absolutely tongue-tied. Kate's words were polite enough, but beneath them she felt the strong and iron will of the resolute and thoroughly enraged girl. The two walked across the room together; they made a striking contrast. The phrase "One of nature's ladies" darted through more than one girl's mind as she looked at Kate. Matilda was much overdressed. She wore a dirty rose-colored silk blouse, and a tawdry skirt trimmed with quantities of cheap lace. Her light hair was frizzed and distorted out of all grace, her freckled cheeks were mottled, and her dull eyes were destitute of life and fire. Cecil rose gravely from her seat by Molly's side, when Kate brought Matilda up to be introduced to her.

"Miss Matthews – Miss Ross," said Kate. "Matilda Matthews hopes soon to be an inmate of St. Dorothy's," continued Kate. "You are the new girl at present, Miss Ross. Matilda hopes to be in that enviable position at the half term."

Cecil bowed gravely. Matilda squeezed her fat person into a chair by her side.

"Did you ever see anyone more plebeian in your life?" she whispered to Cecil, when Kate moved off.

This remark slightly relieved her feelings, and there was a good deal of venom in the tone in which she uttered it.

"I don't understand you," replied Cecil gravely.

"Well, I wonder you don't; I suppose I must explain myself. Our hostess looks like a dairymaid, n'est ce pas?"

"I am not particularly acquainted with the appearance of dairymaids," replied Cecil. "I think our hostess quite the prettiest girl I have ever seen."

Matilda shrugged her fat shoulders.

"Chacun à son goût," she repeated.

Cecil looked at her in a puzzled way. She felt surprised at Kate's going to the trouble of introducing her to such a girl, and after saying a few polite words, turned again to talk to Molly. Molly was in white, and looked one of the sweetest girls in the room. Her simple white dress, the innocent, open expression of her face, gave her something the appearance of a daisy. Cecil, pale, and in deep mourning, made a strong contrast to her friend. The festivities of the evening were now at their height. The girls laughed and joked, and walked from one room to the other. Kate was here, there, and everywhere. The birthday party became so hilarious that Kate's somewhat peculiar dress was forgotten; all was eager conversation and high mirth. Still, Matilda had her own reasons for feeling uncomfortable. Again and again her eyes sought the neighborhood of the door. But whenever she began to make her escape, Kate was down upon her.

"You are eating nothing, Matilda," she said on one of these occasions. "Come into the supper room. Oh, how hot you look! a little lemonade will do you good. Come in here; come with me. Hester, will you give Matilda Matthews a glass of lemonade?"

Hester hurried to comply. As she did so, Kate stooped to whisper to her:

"I don't want that girl to slip out of the room," she said. "Watch her; follow her; keep your eye on her."

"Kate, what is the matter with you?"

"Nothing, nothing! Only keep your eye on Matilda Matthews."

The supper was over at last; even schoolgirls' appetites were satisfied.

"Now, then, let's clear the room," cried Kate.

A few eager hands and legs were immediately at her service. The trays, piled with plates, cups and saucers, and glasses, were conveyed into the passage outside. A moment or two later Miss Leicester came in. She wore a black velvet dress with a long train, and looked particularly dignified and handsome. Kate ran to the door to bid her welcome.

"How sweet of you to come!" she cried. "You are just in time for my birthday speech."

"Are you going to make a speech, dear child?" said Miss Leicester.

"Yes; a little birthday oration. I hope you won't mind."

"No; I shall be interested to hear what you have got to say."

Kate led Miss Leicester to the chair of honor. All the girls had now collected in Hester Temple's pretty room.

"It is awfully hot," whispered Matilda to her nearest companion. "For my part, I think this a very stupid sort of entertainment. The food was awful. Fancy asking a person to come and eat seedcake, and that dreadful lemonade made with tartaric acid. I shall have the stomach-ache to-night. Don't you think this affair very slow, Jenny? What do you say to our going home?"

"No; I'm enjoying myself," said Jenny Howe. "Did you hear Kate say that she was going to make a birthday speech? Kate is such a bright, clever creature, I am quite longing to hear what she has got to say. By the way, Matilda, I don't believe a word of that horrid story you told me about her."

"Did I say anything?" queried Matilda. "I'm sure, if I did, I've forgotten all about it. Of course, I admire Kate O'Connor. She is a little peculiar, but she can't help that."