"Well, yes, I suppose that was it. You see she forgot her veil and I had to go after it." "Why did you have to? Why could not she call for it as she went along?" "I don't know. I suppose she did not think of it." "Well, I know," said Calista, "or at least I guess. Tell me now, honestly, did you not pay for it?" Tessy blushed scarlet, and cast an imploring glance at Calista. "Please don't tell, Calista; it will only get her into a scrape." "I shall not tell, because it would get you into a scrape, you little goose. But I will tell you this, Tessy: if you ever want to be good for anything in this world—or any other, I might say—you must learn to say 'No,' and say it good and strong; in capital letters, with a string of exclamation points after it." "I think I could always say no if it was about anything right or wrong," said Tessy, thoughtfully. "Are you sure? Was there nothing wrong about this?" "Why, no. Was there?" "Yes, I think so. In the first place, you had no right to injure your ankle, especially as Dr. Elsmore told you that a little imprudence might lame you for life. In the second place, you know that Miss McPherson has forbidden Antoinette to borrow anything whatever, don't you?" "Yes." "And if it is wrong for her to borrow, it is clearly wrong for any one to lend to her." "But it wasn't lending, exactly. Antoinette did not ask me to pay for the veil, though, to be sure, she must have known I could not get it without paying, because Mrs. McPherson has forbidden any one to trust the school-girls. Yes, I see, Calista, you are right, and I am a poor, weak, silly fool, and always shall be." "Now you are going just as far the other way," said Calista. "I never said a word about your being a silly fool. All I say is that you must learn to say 'NO!' and say it good and strong." "It seems so ill-natured," pleaded poor Tessy. "Pray, whose good opinion do you care the most for, Antoinette's or Miss McPherson's? But there, I did not come to give you a dose of instructive moral sentiments. How does your work get on?" "Oh, nicely; it is almost done, and Miss Jessy praises it up to the skies. Don't you want to see it? It is in that drawer, if you don't mind getting it out." "How nice your drawers look!" said Calista. "Yes, I am really learning to keep things straight, thanks to Miss Jessy. That is it. Spread it out." Calista admired to Tessy's heart's content the lace-like netted curtains, with what we should now call a guipure pattern around the edge. "They are perfectly lovely. Do you think they will sell?" "Oh, yes; they are bespoken already by a friend of Miss McPherson's from Philadelphia—that Scotch lady who was here the first of the week." "How glad I am! Mine is done, too, all but the border. I mean to knit a double row of rosebuds. There, I must not stay another minute, or Miss Meeks will be after me. Oh, by the by, Tessy, what time did Antoinette go away this morning?" "Do you mean the first time or the last?"