were in earnest. When I saw that she
was I said, "I wouldn't take all the gems of Golconda and go and tell
Dick that I'd been hoaxing him. You can do it yourself, Jill Gordon."

"You didn't tell him anything that wasn't true," said Jill.

"I don't know how a minister might look upon it," I said. "Anyway, I
won't go."

"Then I suppose I've got to," said Jill very dolefully.

"Yes, you'll have to," I said.

And this finishes my part of the story, and Jill is going to tell the
rest. But you needn't believe everything she says about me in it.

_Jill's Side of It_

Jacky has made a fearful muddle of his part, but I suppose I shall
just have to let it go. You couldn't expect much better of a boy. But
I am determined to re-describe Aunt Tommy, for the way Jacky has done
it is just disgraceful. I know exactly how to do it, the way it is
always done in stories.

Aunt Tommy is divinely beautiful. Her magnificent wealth of burnished
auburn hair flows back in amethystine waves from her sun-kissed brow.
Her eyes are gloriously dark and deep, like midnight lakes mirroring
the stars of heaven; her features are like sculptured marble and her
mouth is like a trembling, curving Cupid's bow (this is a classical
allusion) luscious and glowing as a dewy rose. Her creamy skin is as
fair and flawless as the inner petals of a white lily. (She may have a
weeny teeny freckle or two in summer, but you'd never notice.) Her
slender form is matchless in its symmetry and her voice is like the
ripple of a woodland brook.

There, I'm sure that's ever so much better than Jacky's description,
and now I can proceed with a clear conscience.

Well, I didn't like the idea of going and explaining to Dick very
much, but it had to be done unless I wanted to run the risk of having
Pinky Carewe in the family. So I went the next morning.

I put on my very prettiest pink organdie dress and did my hair the new
way, which is very becoming to me. When you are going to have an
important interview with a man it is always well to look your very
best. I put on my big hat with the wreath of pink roses that Aunt
Tommy had brought me from New York and took my spandy ruffled parasol.

"With your shield or upon it, Jill," said Jacky when I started. (This
is another classical allusion.)

I went straight up the hill and down the road to the manse where Dick
lived with his old housekeeper, Mrs. Dodge. She came to the door when
I knocked and I said, very politel