Rectory Farm helps, but she is out this Christ

"What time do the Forests come to-morrow?" asked Kate of Hugh.

"Oh, some time in the morning. Gerald is going to the station for them."

"And the Wetheralls?"

"I don't know."

"They come in the afternoon," said Edith. "We must get the huts done in the morning," said Jack, "because of the skating in the afternoon. Can you skate, Martie?"

"I never tried; but I think I could." "I'll help you."

"Can you, Lucy?" asked Hugh.

"I must also plead ignorance," said Lucy, with such a grown-up air that Jack choked in the act of drinking, and retreated precipitately from the room. Kate ran after him.

"That horrid little humbug!" said the sufferer, as soon as he could speak. "I wish some one would take her down a peg."

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"I think it would be difficult," said his sister; 'Hugh thinks she's charming; but I'm sure she's not anything like so nice as Martie."

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'No; Martie's a regular stunner, and that's a fact. There! I'm all right again now," said

Jack, rubbing his eyes and clearing his throat; "but she'll set me off again, as sure as fate, if she begins her grand speeches."

During Jack's absence, Edith, fearing that the general laughter might wound Lucy's feelings, had tried to distract her attention by entering into conversation with her. But she need not have feared. Lucy was far too selfconfident to trace (in this case) the effect to the cause, as Jack would have said, and had really no idea what made him choke.

Symptoms of giggling from Martie and Kate, and satirical remarks from the boys, which any thin-skinned person would have felt, warned Edith to break up the party as soon as possible. The evening was spent in bagatelle and other games.

As Edith was preparing to put out her candle that night a little voice called to her from the next room. It was only Kate, who wanted to ask her sister for another wrap, as it was cold. So Edith threw a warm dressing-gown over her, and went back to her own room to bed.

CHAP. III.-THE HEIGHT OF BARBARITY.

DITH woke next morning in first-rate spirits. She had worked doubly hard yesterday afternoon to make up for her previous idleness, and all the decorations were ready for the church, but she did not intend to put them up till Amy came, who would be such a help. "Dear Amy!" she thought, as she began to dress; "it's quite six months since 1 saw her. How glad I shall be to have her again!"

Dressing progressed very smoothly till she went to the glass to do her hair, and then, to her great dismay, she missed from its accustomed corner of the table the comb, attached to which was the long hair of which she composed her chignon.

First, she thought she must have put it somewhere else; but, after a thorough search in every imaginable place, she was brought round

to the dressing-table again in a state of mind. as nearly bordering on despair as it was possible to feel under the circumstances. Nobody had entered the room, she felt sure, and yetthere it was last night; and there as certainly it was not now! What should she do? She could not make inquiries of any one, because no one knew her chignon was an artificial one, and she felt the greatest repugnance to owning it. True, the hair was her own, which had been cut off two years ago when she was ill, and so when twice she had been asked if it was false she had with truth answered, "It is my own;" though this answer had given a false impression, which Edith never remembered without feeling uncomfortable, and wishing she had spoken the whole truth, instead of making a compromise with her vanity. She dreaded very much the boys' remarks on the alteration, which she was sure would be noticed if she could not find the hair before breakfast.

Then a sudden thought startled her. A thief might have come; but why take anything of so little value? Then she opened her dressingcase. All her little trinkets and ornaments were safe. She looked for her purse, that was all right, and she could not find that anything else

had gone. Then she thought of the boys; but she could not see how any of them could have carried it off, and she recommenced her search; but a glance at her watch reminded her she had no time to lose, and though every unpleasant consequence at her loss rushed into her mindfrom the knowledge that there would now be difficulty in keeping her bonnet on, to the fear of the boys' inquiries-she resolutely dried the few tears of mortification which had started (poor Edith!), and brushed out her short wavy hair, which looked far more easy and natural than it was possible for the most elaborate chignon to look.

The breakfast bell summoned every one to the dining-room, and there was so much talking and laughing going on at breakfast that Edith took comfort, hoping her hair was not noticed. Her mother looked at her rather curiously once or twice, and Gerald said, "You don't look yourself, old lady; what's up?" but she smiled and said she was quite well, and that was all that passed on the subject at breakfast. Afterwards Gerald and Stephen took the sledge for the Forests, while the others rushed off to finish their huts, and Edith went to prepare for her friends.