"I can disguise myself to look like an old woman," Beth rejoined, thinking of Aunt Victoria's auburn front and some of her old things. "Oh no, Beth!" Alfred protested. "That would be worse than the whiskers." "Can't you come as a boy?" said Dicksie. "I believe I can," Beth exclaimed. "There's an old suit of Jim's somewhere that would be the very thing--one he grew out of. I believe it's about my size, and I think I know where it is. What a splendid idea, Dicksie! I can cut my hair off." "Oh no! Your pretty hair!" Alfred exclaimed. "Is it pretty?" said Beth, surprised and pleased. "_Is_ it pretty!" he ejaculated, lifting it with both hands, and bathing his face in it; "the brightest, brownest, curliest, softest, sweetest hair on earth! Turn it up under your cap. These little curls on your neck will look like short hair." They were all so delighted with this romantic plan, that they danced about, and hugged each other promiscuously. But this last piece of cleverness was their undoing, for Beth was promptly recognised at the menagerie by some one with a sense of humour, who told Lady Benyon, who told Mrs. Caldwell. Mrs. Caldwell came hurrying home from Lady Benyon's a few nights later with the queerest expression of countenance Beth had ever seen; it was something between laughing and crying. "Beth," she began in an agitated manner, "I am told that you went with two of Mr. Richardson's sons to the menagerie on Tuesday night, dressed as a boy." "_One_ of his sons," said Beth, correcting her; "the other boy was his pupil." "And you were walking about looking at the animals in that public place with your arm round the girl from the shoe-shop?" Beth burst out laughing. "All the boys had their arms round girls," she explained. "I couldn't be singular." Mrs. Caldwell dropped into a chair, and sat gazing at Beth as if she had never seen anything like her before, as indeed she never had. "Who is this pupil of Mr. Richardson's?" she asked at last, "and how did you make his acquaintance?" "His name is Alfred Cayley Pounce," Beth answered. "We were caught by the tide and nearly drowned together on the sands, and I've known him ever since." "And do you mean to say that you have been meeting this young man in a clandestine manner--that you hadn't the proper pride to refuse to associate with him unless he were known to your family and you could meet him as an equal?" "He did wish to make your acquaintance, but I wouldn't let him," Beth said. "Why?" Mrs. Caldwell asked in amazement. "Oh, because I was afraid you would be horrid to him," Beth answered. Mrs. Caldwell was thunderstruck. The whole affair had overwhelmed her as a calamity which could not be met by any ordinary means. Scolding was out of the question, for she was not able to utter another word, but just sat there with such a miserable face, she might have been the culprit herself, especially as she ended by bursting into tears.