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out of humour she’ll visit it on you. But I will say for her that she doesn’t often get vexed and there’s nothing mean or grudging about her. She’d work her fingers to the bone to serve a friend.”

When Aunt Ruth had gone out to interview the grocer’s boy, Mrs. Royal added hurriedly,

“She’s greatly interested in you, Emily. She’s always fond of having pretty, fresh girls about her—says it keeps her feeling young. She thinks your work shows real talent. If she takes a fancy to you it would be a great thing for you. But, for pity’s sake, keep on good terms with that chow! If you offend him, Janet wouldn’t have anything to do with you supposing you were Shakespeare himself.”

Emily awoke Friday morning with the conviction that this was to be one of the crucial days of her life—a day of dazzling possibilities. She had had a terrible dream of sitting spellbound before Miss Royal, unable to utter one word except “Chu-Chin,” which she repeated parrot-like whenever Miss Royal asked her a question.

It poured rain all the forenoon, much to her dismay, but at noon it cleared up brilliantly and the hills across the harbour scarfed themselves in fairy blue. Emily hurried home from school, pale with the solemnity of the occasion. Her toilet was an important rite. She must wear her new navy-blue silk—no question about that. It was positively long and made her look fully grown up. But how should she do her hair? The Psyche knot had more distinction, suited her profile, and showed to better advantage under her hat. Besides, perhaps a bare forehead made her look more intellectual. But Mrs. Royal had said that Miss Royal liked pretty girls. Pretty, therefore, she must be at all costs. The rich black hair was dressed low on her forehead and crowned by the new spring hat which Emily had dared to buy with her latest check, in spite of Aunt Elizabeth’s disapproval and Aunt Ruth’s unvarnished statement that a fool and her money were soon parted. But Emily was glad now that she had bought