Darsie Garnett was fired with a desire to give an Orchard party on her own account, the guests to be Hannah, Margaret France, her special Fresher adorer (Marian White by name), Ralph Percival, Dan Vernon, two agreeable Classics from King's; Mrs Reeves to play chaperon--just a cheery little party of nine. What could you wish for more? Margaret, preternaturally solemn, opined that _ten_ would be a more desirable number. "Poor Mrs Reeves! What has _she_ done? Why not ask some one to play about with _her_? I can't bear to see a Lonely at a picnic or to be interrupted myself!" "It _might_ be judicious to invite Minerva!" agreed Darsie, twinkling, and alluding to the Don who enjoyed the privilege of Mrs Reeves's special friendship. "Two chaperons! What a character for propriety I shall gain, to be sure! They little know." "They know perfectly well, but they are human creatures after all. They've been young themselves, and they enjoy the Orchard! Set to work at once, my dear, and get out your invitations. This weather can't possibly last, and it's going to break my heart if it is wet." But there was no sign of rain on that exquisite morning when at the striking of six o'clock Darsie leaped out of bed, and thrust her ruffled golden head out of the opened window. A few feathery white clouds served but to intensify the blueness of the sky; the air was soft and sweet, the garden beneath was already bathed in sunlight. Darsie gave a little caper of delight. Sunshine, a picnic, a pretty frock and hat waiting to be worn, and one's very best friends to admire the result-- what healthy girl of twenty could fail to be happy under such circumstances as these? She sang as she dressed; she made little fancy steps, and three separate pirouettes which would have delighted the heart of a terpsichorean mistress. One pirouette greeted the effect of the white dress; the second, that of the wide straw hat, with its appropriate garland of blossom; the third was partly in celebration of the combined effect, and partly out of sheer inability to keep still. Her toilette completed, Darsie repaired to Hannah's room and surprised that tasteless young woman engaged in putting the final touches to her own costume, in the shape of an abomination designated "a neck arrangement," composed of the cheapest of machine lace and papery satin ribbon. Hannah jumped with dismay as a hand descended suddenly over her shoulder, and tore this treasure from her grasp. "No!" cried Darsie firmly. "You are my childhood's friend, and I love you dearly, but wear lace frills with a linen collar at my Orchard party you--_shall not_! Miserable woman! Will you never learn how to dress?"