h interested, whereas she knew she was not
interested at all. Deeply humiliated, and flushing scarlet, she replied
in a very small voice, "No."

The dean raised his eyebrows.

"Dear me, dear me!" he said, pretending to be shocked. "How's this,
Miss Unity? We must teach your god-daughter better."

Pennie felt she could not bear to be held up to public notice much
longer. The hot tears rose in her eyes; if the dean asked her any more
questions she was afraid she should cry, and that, at her age, with
everyone looking at her, would be a lasting disgrace.

At this moment sympathy came from an unexpected quarter. A hand stole
into hers, and Sabine's voice whispered:

"Don't mind. I don't care for them either."

It was wonderfully comforting. Pennie gulped down her tears and tried
to smile her thanks, and just then general attention was turned another
way. Some one asked Dr Merridew if he were going to the Institute that
evening.

"I'm extremely sorry to say no," he replied, his smiles disappearing,
and his lips pursed seriously together. "Important matters keep me at
home. But I much regret it."

All the guests much regretted it also, except Pennie, who began to feel
a faint hope that she might after all enjoy herself if the dean were not
going too.

The party set out a little later to walk to the Institute, which was
quite a short distance off.

"May I sit by you?" asked Pennie, edging up to her newly-found friend,
Sabine.

She was a funny little girl, rather younger than Nancy, with short black
curls all over her head, and small twinkling eyes. Pennie had always
thought she liked her better than the others, and now she felt sure of
it.

"Do you like dissolving views or magic lanterns best?" she went on.

"Magic lanterns much," said Sabine promptly. "You see dissolving views
are never funny at all. They're quite serious and _teachy_."

"What are they about?" asked Pennie.

"Oh! sunsets, and palm-trees, and natives, and temples, and things like
that," said Sabine. "I don't care about them at all, but Joyce likes
them, so perhaps you will."

"Why do you come, if you don't like them?" asked Pennie.

"Because it's my turn and Joyce's," said Sabine. "We always go to
things in twos; there are six of us, you see."

"So there are of us," said Pennie, "only Baby doesn't count because
she's too young to go to things. There isn't often anything to go to in
Easney, but when there is we all five g