really--"

"Oh, dear, no. No such luck! Poor fun having a fire brigade, and no
chance to show its mettle. But we live in hope. You ought to join. I
can imagine you making a magnificent captain."

So here was another ambition. Darsie made a mental note to inquire into
the workings of the fire brigade, and to offer her name as a recruit
without delay.

CHAPTER NINETEEN.

THE FANCY BALL.

It was somewhat of a shock to the Fresher contingency to receive one
morning the intimation of a Costume Ball, to be held in Clough Hall on
the following night; but their protests met with scant sympathy from the
elders. When Darsie plaintively declared that she hadn't got a fancy
dress, and would not have time to send home for it if she _had_, a
third-year girl silenced her by a stern counter-question: "And where,
pray, would be the fun if you _had_, and _could_? If at the cost of a
postcard you could be fitted up as the Lady of the Lake in green
draperies and water-lilies, it would no doubt be exceedingly becoming,
but it would be no sport. No, young woman, you've got to contrive
something out of nothing and an hour stolen from the night, and when
you've done it you'll be in the mood to appreciate other people's
contrivings into the bargain. Buck up! You're one of the dressy sort.
We'll expect wonders from you."

But when Darsie repaired to the seclusion of her study and set herself
to the problem of evolving a fancy dress out of an ordinary college
outfit, ideas were remarkably slow in coming. She looked questioningly
at each piece of drapery in turns, wondered if she could be a ghost in
curtains, a statue in sheets, an eastern houri in the cotton quilt, a
Portia in the hearthrug, discarded each possibility in turn, and turned
her attention to her own wardrobe.

Black serge, grey tweed, violet ninon; two evening frocks, and the one
white satin which was the _piece de resistance_ of the whole. A cloth
coat, a mackintosh, an art serge cloak for evening wear--how _could_ one
manufacture a fancy dress from garments so ordinary as these?

In despair, Darsie betook herself to Margaret France's room and found
that young woman seated before her dressing-table engaged in staring
fixedly at her own reflection in the mirror. She betrayed no
embarrassment at being discovered in so compromising a position, but
smiled a broad smile of welcome out of the mirror, the while she
continued to turn and to twist, and hold up a h