To Betty’s amazement, Jeanette turned to her with a look she never forgot. “How _dare_ you say such a thing, Betty McGuire? If you weren’t one of my best friends, I’d never forgive you!” “I didn’t mean any harm,” stammered Betty, quite crushed by Jeanette’s offended look. “Of course she didn’t,” chimed in Dorothy; “in fact, she didn’t mean it at all.” Betty was about to speak, but Dorothy pinched her arm to be silent, and went on herself. “You don’t need a new dress, Jeanette. Your white muslin with the lace yoke is a very pretty dress?” “It was; but it’s just been done up, and it went all to pieces. It’s so old, you know. Mother said she didn’t believe it would stand washing again. So I can’t go, and I told Miss Whittier to-day that I wouldn’t select a piece.” “Oh, what a shame!” cried Betty; “and you recite so well, too. Can’t you wear some other dress?” “No, I have nothing fit for an evening affair, and Mother says I can’t have a new one. So I’m not going.” At Miss Whittier’s school a reception was given each winter, and always a very important event. The parents and friends of the pupils were invited, and elaborate preparations were made for the occasion. The girls wore their prettiest frocks, and a program of entertainment was given in which the pupils who excelled in singing or declamation took part. Usually this reception was held on the date of some poet’s birthday, and this year the 27th of February, Longfellow’s birthday, had been chosen. It was now the 10th, but the intervening time was none too long in which to prepare for the great event. Betty, Jeanette, and Dorothy were all among the ones chosen to recite from the poet’s works, and a prize would be rewarded to the one who best deserved it. Each contestant was allowed to make her own selection, and already Betty was practising on “The Wreck of the _Hesperus_,” while Dorothy had chosen “The Skeleton in Armor.” These decisions were profound secrets among the school-girls, only Miss Whittier being supposed to know what each girl was to recite. But of course our three little friends told each other in the strictest confidence, and when Jeanette announced her intention of staying away from the reception, both Betty and Dorothy were astounded. But argumenting and coaxing were in vain, and when Jeanette turned in at her own gate, the other two said good-by and went on toward their homes. “Whatever made Jeanette so angry when I offered to give her a dress?” exclaimed Betty as soon as she and Dorothy were alone. “Why, you goose, of course she wouldn’t accept a dress from anybody! You ought to have known that the mere mention of such a thing would offend her!” “But I don’t see why. I’d love to give it to her.”