As she sat leaning back in the little victoria, her white and dainty parasol unfurled, her white gloves gleaming in the summer sunshine, a lady, considerably older than herself, came out of the station and, going up to the driver, asked if she could have a seat also up to The Chase. This lady's name was Mrs Hungerford, and she had two young daughters at the school. She was a fashionable woman, beautifully dressed, and when she took her seat by Brenda's side, Brenda felt that she could not do better than make her her friend. Accordingly, she entered into what she considered a very delightful conversation. She talked simply, and yet suitably, with regard to herself, and did what she could to add to Mrs Hungerford's comfort. For instance, the astute young woman proposed that her white parasol should shade both of them from the sun. Mrs Hungerford was a dark-complexioned woman and she immediately agreed to the offer. As a matter of fact, she did not much mind whether the sun's rays fell on her face and neck or not. She noticed, although she made no remark at the time, that Brenda did not greatly care either; for she was absorbed in shading herself from the slightest fleck of undue light. At last they reached The Chase. The little carriage drew up daintily at the front door, where a number of pupils were assembled and where Mrs Hazlitt herself stood to welcome her visitors. The girls in the school were all dressed in white--some in white washing silk, some in white lace, some only in white muslin. But whatever the dress, they looked neat and fresh and, in Brenda's eyes, were elegant. She looked anxiously around for Penelope, who was not immediately in sight. Mrs Hungerford got quickly out of the carriage, for she saw her own two little girls, who rushed to her with cries of delight. As she did so, something glittered at Brenda's feet. She was stepping out when she saw it. It was a little gold bangle with a blue turquoise clasp. It was very pretty and dainty, and altogether the sort of thing which a girl like Brenda would covet. She had no immediate idea, however, of stealing it. She stooped to pick it up immediately, to avoid its being stepped upon, and was about to give it to Mrs Hungerford, whose property she supposed it to be, when that lady went straight into the house, without taking the slightest notice of her. With trembling fingers, Brenda slipped the gold bangle into her pocket. She longed most earnestly to be able to wear it. It was of beautiful workmanship, and the turquoise which clasped it together was of unusual size and purity of colour. It was quite a girlish-looking thing and would be, Brenda felt sure, most unsuitable for dark, stately Mrs Hungerford. All these thoughts with regard to it rushed through her mind as she stood for a minute, unnoticed, on the green sward which swept up to the house at each side of the principal entrance.