ing her
scissors, ripped the offending sheets in halves with uncompromising
fingers.

"Oh, Honor, what have you done? How could you? Oh, what will Miss
Maitland say?" shrieked Janie, almost in tears.

"I don't care!" declared Honor recklessly.

In her present excited state she would have torn up her best dress with
equal readiness. She was elated with her success in the cricket
field--what the Scotch call "fey"; and so long as she gratified her
present whim, she had no thought at all for the future.

"I must have some costume," she continued, "and we ought to go
downstairs at once. They're my own sheets, so what does it matter? It
isn't as if they were school property; I brought them from home with
the rest of my linen--they're marked 'H. Fitzgerald' in the corner."

"You'll get into a shocking scrape, all the same," said Janie, who was
horror-stricken at her friend's lawlessness.

There was no time, however, to think about consequences. The gong was
giving the signal for the parade to begin, and various gigglings and
exclamations in the passage warned them that the other girls were
already issuing from their rooms. Honor hastily finished her Arab
toilet, and without further delay the pair joined the rest of the
masqueraders in the hall.

Here a brilliant scene awaited them. Considering the scanty materials
at command, quite marvellous results had been accomplished. The
costumes were most gay and varied, and many of them showed extreme
ingenuity on the part of their wearers. Lettice Talbot had carried out
Ruth Latimer's idea for a Merry-andrew with great success, and was
evidently endeavouring to sustain the character by firing off bad puns,
or facetious remarks on the appearance of her friends. Dorothy
Arkwright, in a blue evening dress and a black velvet hat with
feathers, made a dignified Duchess of Devonshire; and Pauline Reynolds,
whose long, golden hair hung below her waist, came arrayed as Fair
Rosamond. There were several Italian peasants, a Cavalier, a Roundhead,
and a matador. Agnes Bennett, one of the elder girls, impersonated the
Pied Piper of Hamelin. By pinning two dressing-gowns (one of red and
one of buff) together, she had well imitated the "queer long coat from
heel to head, half of yellow and half of red", worn by the mysterious
stranger; and, with her pipe, hung with ribbons, at her lips, seemed
ready to charm either rats into the Weser, or children into the
hillside. Edith Hammond-Smith was