"Please to remember that this is a finishing school!" mocked Ardiune. "Don't on any account shock the neighbourhood by an unseemly exhibition of vulgar slang!" "It'll slip out, I know, when I'm not thinking," groaned Raymonde. On the first afternoon of the geological course, an audience of about twenty visitors augmented the usual gathering in the lecture hall. They were accommodated with the best seats, and the school occupied the third and fourth rows. Directly in front of Raymonde sat an elderly lady in a large black hat trimmed with cherries, which bobbed temptingly over the brim. She appeared to take an interest in her surroundings, glanced about the room, and turned a reproving eye on Raymonde, who ventured to whisper to Aveline. With Miss Gibbs hovering in the background with a now-mind-you-keep-up-the-credit-of-the-school expression, the girls hardly dared even to blink, but Aveline managed to write: "What a Tartar in front!" on a slip of paper, and hand it to her chum. The Professor, bland as ever, was coming into the room and hanging a geological map over the blackboard. He smiled broadly, showing his large white teeth to the uttermost, and, after a few preliminary remarks of welcome to the visitors, plunged into a description of the earth's crust. All went well for a while; then an untoward incident happened. The lady with the cherries in her hat, who had possibly taken cold, or was affected by the pollen in the flowers upon the table, sneezed violently, not only once, but twice, and even a third time. "Three's for a wedding! Is it Gibbie?" whispered Raymonde the incorrigible. Aveline's mental equilibrium was always easily upset. The idea of Miss Gibbs in connection with matrimony was too much for her, and she exploded into a series of painfully suppressed giggles. The more she tried to stop, the more hysterical she grew, especially as her lack of self-control appeared to produce great agitation among the cherries on the black hat in front. It was only by holding her breath till she almost choked that she managed to avoid disgracing herself absolutely. As Morvyth had predicted, Raymonde was among the hostesses for the afternoon. She rose admirably to the occasion, handed round cakes and bread and butter, and talked sweetly to the guests on a variety of topics. Aveline, also one of the chosen, though less agile in conversation, tried to look "hospitable" and "welcoming," and cultured and pretty-mannered and gracious, and everything else which might be expected from a young lady at a finishing-school. Miss Gibbs, who was keeping the deportment of the hostesses well under inspection, beamed approval, but spurred them on to fresh efforts. "See that nobody is neglected," she whispered. "Hand the cakes to that lady who is standing by the piano; and you, Raymonde, take her the cream."