Aunt Janet could not go down the hill in the afternoon to find out how Sara was because company came to tea--the Millwards from Markdale. Mr. Millward was a doctor, and Mrs. Millward was a B.A. Aunt Janet was very desirous that everything should be as nice as possible, and we were all sent to our rooms before tea to wash and dress up. The Story Girl slipped over home, and when she came back we gasped. She had combed her hair out straight, and braided it in a tight, kinky, pudgy braid; and she wore an old dress of faded print, with holes in the elbows and ragged flounces, which was much too short for her. “Sara Stanley, have you taken leave of your senses?” demanded Aunt Janet. “What do you mean by putting on such a rig! Don’t you know I have company to tea?” “Yes, and that is just why I put it on, Aunt Janet. I want to mortify the flesh--” “I’ll ‘mortify’ you, if I catch you showing yourself to the Millwards like that, my girl! Go right home and dress yourself decently--or eat your supper in the kitchen.” The Story Girl chose the latter alternative. She was highly indignant. I verily believe that to sit at the dining-room table, in that shabby, outgrown dress, conscious of looking her ugliest, and eating only bread and water before the critical Millwards would have been positive bliss to her. When we went to the missionary meeting that evening, the Story Girl wore her school dress and hat, while Felicity and Cecily were in their pretty muslins. And she had tied her hair with a snuff-brown ribbon which was very unbecoming to her. The first person we saw in the church porch was Mrs. Ray. She told us that Sara had nothing worse than a feverish cold. The missionary had at least seven happy listeners that night. We were all glad that Sara did not have measles, and the Story Girl was radiant. “Now you see all your penance was wasted,” said Felicity, as we walked home, keeping close together because of the rumour that Peg Bowen was abroad. “Oh, I don’t know. I feel better since I punished myself. But I’m going to make up for it to-morrow,” said the Story Girl energetically. “In fact, I’ll begin to-night. I’m going to the pantry as soon as I get home, and I’ll read father’s letter before I go to bed. Wasn’t the missionary splendid? That cannibal story was simply grand. I tried to remember every word, so that I can tell it just as he told it. Missionaries are such noble people.” “I’d like to be a missionary and have adventures like that,” said Felix. “It would be all right if you could be sure the cannibals would be interrupted in the nick of time as his were,” said Dan. “But sposen they weren’t?” “Nothing would prevent cannibals from eating Felix if they once caught him,” giggled Felicity. “He’s so nice and fat.” I am sure Felix felt very unlike a missionary at that precise moment. “I’m going to put two cents more a week in my missionary box than I’ve been doing,” said Cecily determinedly.