her heart was beating so fast
and her throat was so dry she knew the words would stick at the very
time she needed them most. Feeling as if she were about to have a tooth
pulled, she sank into a large upholstered rocking chair to wait. It
tipped back so far that her toes could not reach the floor, and she
sprang out again in a hurry. One could never feel at ease in an
infantile position like that.

Then she tried a straight chair, imitating the pose of a majestic
gentlewoman in one of the portraits on the panelled wall. It was one of
Madam's grand ancestors she conjectured. A glance into the tell-tale
mirror made her sigh despairingly again. She was not built on majestic
lines herself. No matter how queenly and imposing she might feel in that
attitude, she only looked ridiculously stiff.

Once more she changed her seat, flouncing down on a low sofa, and
struggling for a graceful position with one elbow leaning on a huge silk
cushion. It was in all seriousness that she made these changes,
realizing that she could not appear at her best unless she felt at ease.
But the humour of the situation was not lost on her. An amused smile
dimpled her face as she gave the sofa cushion a thump and once more
changed her seat. "I'm worse than Goldilocks trying all the chairs of
the three bears, but that's too loppy!"

She whisked into a fourth seat, this time opposite the portieres. To her
consternation the parted curtains revealed an appalling fact. Not only
could the winding stairway be seen from where she sat, but the entire
interior of the reception room must be equally visible to any one coming
down the steps. The dignified white-haired Personage now on the bottom
step must have seen every move she made as she darted around the room
trying the chairs in turn.

The faint gleam of suppressed amusement on Madam Chartley's face as she
entered, confirmed the girl's fears. It was unthinkable that such a
mortifying situation should go unexplained, yet for a moment after
Madam's courteous greeting Mary stood tongue-tied. Then she burst out,
her face fairly purple:

"Oh, I _wish_ you could change places with me for just five minutes!
Then you'd know how it feels to always put your worst foot first and
make a mess of everything!"

Madam Chartley had welcomed many types of girls to her school and was
familiar with every shade of embarrassment, but she had never been
greeted with quite such an outburst as this. Desperate to make herse