"Oh, doesn't Audrey look pretty!" Debby's enthusiastic admiration died away in a sigh as she looked down over her untidy self, and, for the first time in her life, she felt ashamed of her appearance. "I--I wished I'd stayed to wash my hands," she whispered nervously to Tom, "and had put on my hat, it would have covered up my hair--I never brushed it." "Oh, you are all right," responded Tom, consolingly "just button up your shoes." "I can't, the buttons are off. Oh! and you haven't got on any tie! Oh, Tom, what will they think?" "Well--I couldn't find it. I looked and looked. Here's the engine. Oh, Deb, doesn't she look fine?" "Splendid," said Deborah, but only half-heartedly. She was so sorry Tom had not a tie on, and that she had not made herself look as nice as Audrey did. And when there stepped out of the train two trim figures in spotless blue cotton frocks, and a boy in an equally spotless grey flannel suit, Debby could not face them, but turned and raced off the platform and up the street as fast as her legs could take her. Too fast, indeed, for her slippers, for they dropped off very soon, and she hadn't time to stop and pick them up. It was easier to run along in stockinged feet, than in shoes that slopped off at the heels with every step she took. It was rather painful work, though, and Debby was glad when she reached the shelter of home. "Oh, Faith!" she cried, almost falling into the room. "They have come, and they are so--so tidy, and pretty! They have on blue frocks, and big hats with cornflowers on them; and, oh, please do try and make me look tidy and pretty too!" Faith was standing before the glass, tying up her hair. She had been taking unusual pains with her appearance to-day, and she was rather late-- which was not unusual. Joan, looking a perfect darling in her little long white frock, was sitting on the bed, playing with reels of cotton. "Where are your shoes?" asked Faith, looking in dismay at Debby's much-darned stockings. "I lost them--down the village. They fell off when I was running. Somebody will bring them back all right," she added, consolingly, "they've got my name inside." It was Irene Vivian who brought them back. "Your brother said they were yours," she smiled, as she handed the shabby brown shoes to the blushing Debby. "I am so sorry," said Debby, apologetically. "Tom should have carried them. You see, I'd lost the buttons, and they dropped off when I was running. I--I couldn't stay to go back, I was in--in rather a hurry." She took the shoes, and was putting them on as they were. "I'm going to wear them to-day, 'cause they're comfortabler than my best ones, and the heather and brambles and things would scratch up my best ones," she added, confidentially. "I am going up on the moor to tea--we are all going. All except Joan." Has Audrey told you?