got up as she is,--silk, and satin, and
lace, and bracelets, and feathers, and what not. And for church, too! I
wonder she should turn out like that: she should have better taste. I
really don't quite like going with her, she looks so conspicuous,--just as
if she were going to a garden-party or flower-show, for all the world."
When they met again, both girls looked a little conscious, and Ethel said,
"How very smart you are!"

"Why, this is an old dress that I put on for fear it might rain," said
Bijou. "Don't you hate having to wear goggles and cages and things? It
must be perfectly horrid."

"I don't mind. Of course one isn't looking one's best; but that is of no
consequence. Health is the first consideration," said Ethel. "Ah! there
comes your father."

Of the walk it need only be said that it was very pleasant going, and
rained a little coming back; that Ethel produced her "goloshes," put up
her umbrella, and walked home as serenely as her concern for Bijou would
admit. That young lady had on paper-soled boots that got soaking wet, a
fine summer parasol that she seemed to think fulfilled every office that
was desirable in shielding her bonnet, a dress ill fitted to resist chill
or dampness. She persisted that she was "all right," while her pretty
teeth chattered; but she caught a violent cold, and was in bed a week,
while Ethel came down to dinner as rosy as Baby Ketchum, and ate as
heartily as Mr. Ramsay and Mr. Heathcote, who certainly showed themselves
good trenchermen. Mrs. Ketchum persisted in regarding the two young men
very much as though they had been returned Arctic travellers, and amused
them not a little by suggesting that they should lie down all the evening.

"Why, we haven't turned a hair. We are as fit as a fiddle," they exclaimed,
and looked anything but unstrung.

Ethel had made one speech that astonished Bijou considerably. "Do you know,
I have been watching you ever since I have known you," she said, "to see
if it was true? That is, that the American ladies _spat_ on all occasions,
as I have read. Don't think me rude to mention it."

"We don't quarrel any more than any one else," said Bijou, quite
misunderstanding.

"I don't mean that, you know: _expectorate_. And I see it was not true at
all. I have not seen it once," explained Ethel.

"I should think not! Well, I do think! How could you believe such
ridiculous nonsense?" asked Bijou indignantly.

"Don't be vexed, Bijou dear. I did not