should have been four, and I
could have had Evie to myself--"

"Y-es!" drawled Harold slowly. Two minutes later Rhoda happened to look
at his face, and wondered why in the world he was smiling to himself in
that funny, amused fashion!

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

TOM ARRIVES.

Tom wrote by return to state that she considered Rhoda "a brick" for
sending her such a "ripping" invitation; that it would be "great sport"
to see her at home, and that she would arrive by the twelve o'clock
train on the next Monday.

"She isn't pretty," Rhoda explained anxiously to Harold, the fastidious;
"in fact, she's plain, very plain indeed. I'm afraid you won't like
her, but she likes _you_. She saw you on the platform at Euston, and
said you were a `bee-ootiful young man,' and that she was broken-hearted
that she couldn't stay to make your acquaintance."

"Good taste, evidently, though unattractive!" said Harold, smiling.
"I'm sorry she's not good-looking, but it can't be helped. No doubt she
makes up for it in moral worth."

"Well, she does, that's perfectly true. I loathed and detested her at
first, but I'm devoted to her now. She's just, and kind, and awfully
clever, and so funny that you simply can't be in low spirits when she's
about. All the girls adore her, but you won't. She says herself that
men can't appreciate her, so she's going to devote her life to women,
out of revenge. Men never care for women unless they are pretty and
taking," cried Rhoda, with an air, and Harold protested sententiously.

"I'm the exception to the rule! I look beyond the mere exterior, to the
nobility of character which lies behind. Dear Tom's lack of beauty is
nothing to me. I am prepared for it, and shall suffer no disillusion."

He changed his mind, however, when at the appointed time "dear Tom"
arrived, and stepped from the carriage on to the platform of the little
station. When his eye first fell upon her, in response to Rhoda's
excited, "There she is!" he felt a momentary dizzy conviction that there
must be a mistake. This extraordinary apparition could never be his
sister's friend, but yes! it was even so, for already the girls were
greeting each other, and glancing expectantly in his direction. He went
through the introduction with immovable countenance, saw the two friends
comfortably seated in the pony carriage, and called to mind a message in
the village which would prevent him from joining them as he had
intended. He req