“Hetty, how vulgar!” interposed Miss Day. “What has Polly’s auction of her _recherche’_ things to do with blankets and feather-beds? Now the cocoa is ready. Who will help me to carry the cups round?” “I had some fun to-day?” said Rosalind, when each of the girls, provided with their cups of cocoa, sat round and began to sip. “I took Miss Propriety to town with me.” “Oh, did you, darling? Do tell us all about it!” said Annie Day, running up to Rosalind and taking her hand. “There isn’t much to tell. She behaved as I expected; her manners are not graceful, but she’s a deep one.” “Anybody can see that who looks at her,” remarked Lucy Marsh. “We went to the Elliot-Smiths’,” continued Rosalind. “Good gracious, Rosie!” interrupted Hetty Jones. “You don’t mean to say you took Propriety to _that_ house?” “Yes; why not? It’s the jolliest house in Kingsdene.” “But fancy taking poor Propriety there. What did she say?” “Say? She scolded a good deal.” “Scolded! Poor little proper thing! How I should have liked to have seen her. Did she open her purse and exhibit its emptiness to the company at large? Did she stand on a chair and lecture the frivolous people who assemble in that house on the emptiness of life? Oh, how I wish I could have looked on at the fun!” “You’d have beheld an edifying sight then, my dear,” said Rosalind. “Prissie’s whole behavior was one to be copied. No words can describe her tact and grace.” “But what did she do, Rosie? I wish you would speak out and tell us. You know you are keeping something back.” “Whenever she saw me she scolded me, and she tripped over my dress several times.” “Oh, you dear, good, patient Rosalind, what a bore she must have been.” “No, she wasn’t, for I scarcely saw anything of her. She amused herself capitally without me, I can tell you.” “Amused herself? Propriety amused herself? How diverting! Could she stoop to it?” “She did. She stooped and— conquered. She secured for herself an adorer.” “Rosalind, how absurd you are! Poor, Plain Propriety!” “As long as I live I shall hate the letter P,” suddenly interrupted Annie Day, “for since that disagreeable girl has got into the house we are always using it.” “Never mind, Rosalind; go on with your story,” said Miss Jones. “What did Plain Propriety do?” Rosalind threw up her hands, rolled her eyes skyward and uttered the terse remark: “She flirted!” “Oh, Rosie! who would flirt with her? I suppose she got hold of some old rusty, musty don. But then I do not suppose you’d find that sort of man at the Elliot-Smiths’.” This remark came from Lucy Marsh. Rosalind Merton, who was leaning her fair head against a dark velvet cushion, looked as if she enjoyed the situation immensely. “What do you say to a Senior Wrangler?” she asked in a gentle voice. “Rosalind, what— not _the_ Senior Wrangler?” Rosalind nodded. “Oh! oh! oh! what could he see— Geoffrey Hammond, of all people! He’s so exclusive too.”