"It is becoming," said Brenda, gazing at her pupil critically; "that pale shade of blue suits you _to perfection_; and that `chic' little mauve bow at the side is so very, very _comme il faut_. But that is not the question in the very least, Fanchon--whether it becomes you or not. It is this: can we afford it--or rather, can Nina afford it? Nina, look. Can you afford to allow your sister to buy that hat?" The serving-woman in the shop very nearly tittered when the plain, awkward little girl--the youngest of the party--was brought forward to make such a solemn decision. Nina herself was very sulky, and, without glancing at the hat, said: "Yes, take it, I don't care!" "Very well, darling," said Brenda. "You can send that hat to Palliser Gardens--9, Palliser Gardens," she said to the attendant. "Nina, enter in your account-book twelve shillings and eleven-pence three farthings for Fanchon's hat." "I want one like it!" cried Josie. "Oh--I'm sure Nina won't allow that!" exclaimed Brenda. "_I_ don't care!" said Nina. In the end each girl had a similar hat, and Nina had to enter the amounts in her horrible little book. The hats were fairly pretty, but were really not meant for little girls with their hair worn in pigtails. But the only thing Brenda cared about was the fact that a considerable sum of Mr Amberley's money was got rid of. "Now," she said, "we'll consider the dresses." And the dresses were considered. They were quite expensive and not pretty. There were also several other things purchased, and Nina grew quite thin with her calculations. All these things happened during the first days of their stay at Marshlands-on-the-Sea. But now the toilets were complete. It was on a scorching and beautiful morning after Brenda, becomingly dressed from head to foot in purest white, had taken her little pupils in check dresses and paper hats down to the seashore, had bathed there and swum most beautifully, to the delight of those who looked on, and had returned again in time for the mid-day meal, that she found Penelope's letter awaiting her. It was laid by her plate on the dinner table. She opened it with her usual airy grace and then exclaimed--her eyes sparkling with excitement and delight: "I say, girls--here's a treat! Our dear friends, the Beverleys, have invited us all to spend to-morrow at the Castle. We must accept, of course, and must drive out. Mrs Dawson,"--here she turned to the lady who kept the boarding-house--"can you tell me what a drive will be from here to Castle Beverley?" "Five shillings at the very least," replied Mrs Dawson. She spoke in an awe-struck voice. There were no people so respected in the neighbourhood as the Beverleys, and Mrs Dawson--a well-meaning and sensible woman--did not believe it possible that any guest of hers could know them.