Then Aldith rose to go.  “Mind you’re in time for the boat to-morrow,” she said, as they reached the gate; “and, Marguerite, be sure you make yourself look very nice—­wear your cornflower dress, and see if Mrs. Woolcot will lend you a pair of her gloves, your grey ones are just a little shabby, aren’t they, dear?”

“H’m,” said Meg, colouring.

“And Mr. James Graham always comes back on that boat, and the two Courtney boys—­Andrew Courtney told Beatrice he thought you seemed a nice little thing; he often notices you, he says, because you blush so.”

“I can’t help it,” Meg said, unhappily.  “Aldith, how ought the ribbon to go on my hat?  I’m going to retrim it again.”

“Oh, square bows, somewhat stiff, and well at the side,” the oracle, said.  “I’m glad you’re going to, dear, it looked just a wee bit dowdy, didn’t it?” Meg coloured again.

“Have you done your French?” she said, as she pulled open the gate.

“In a way,” Aldith said carelessly.  Then she put up her chin, “Those frowzy-looking Smiths always make a point of having no mistakes; and, Janet Green, whose hats are always four seasons behind the fashions; I prefer to have a few errors, just to show I haven’t to work hard and be a teacher after I—–­”

But just here she stumbled and fell down her full length in a most undignified manner, right across the muddy sidewalk.

It was a piece of string and Baby’s vengeance.

CHAPTER VII “What Say You to Falling in Love?”

Meg was looking ill, there was no doubt about it.  Her pretty pink-and-white complexion was losing its fresh look, a slightly irritable expression had settled round a mouth that a few months back had seemed made for smiles only.  And terribly unromantic fact, her nose was quite florid-looking at times.  Now a heroine may have the largest, deepest, and most heavily lashed eyes imaginable; she may have hair in very truth like the gold “mown from a harvest’s middle floor”; she may have lips like cherries and teeth like pearls, and a red nose will be so utterly fatal that all these other charms will pass unnoticed.  It cost Meg real anguish of spirit.  She carefully read all the Answers to Correspondents in the various papers Aldith lent her in search of a remedy, but nearly everyone seemed to be asking for recipes to promote the growth of the eyelashes or to prevent embonpoint.  Not one she chanced on said, “A red nose in a girl is generally caused by indigestion or tight-lacing.”  She asked Aldith to suggest something, and that young person thought that vaseline and sulphur mixed together, and spread over the afflicted member, would have the desired effect.  So every night Meg fastened her bedroom door with a wedge of wood, keys being unknown luxuries at Misrule, and anointed her, poor little nose most carefully with the greasy mixture, lying all night on her back to prevent it rubbing off on the pillow.