which threatened showers, the grass being dank and sparkling with
something more than September dews.

'The tables must be in the coach-house,' said Lady Merrifield.
'Happily, our equipages are not on a large scale, and we must not get
the poor girls' best things drenched.'

'No; and it is rather disheartening to have to address double ranks of
umbrellas,' said Aunt Jane. 'Is the post come?'

'It is always infamously late here,' said Harry. 'We complained, as
the appointed hour is eight, but we were told 'all the other ladies
were satisfied.' I do believe they think no one not in business has a
right to wish for letters before nine.'

'Here it comes, though,' said Gillian; and in due time the locked
letter-bag was delivered to Lady Merrifield, and Primrose waited
eagerly to act as postman.

It was not the day for the Indian mail, but Aunt Jane expected some
last directions, and Lady Merrifield the final intelligence as to the
numbers of each contingent of girls. Dolores was on the qui vive for a
letter from Maude Sefton, and devoured her aunt and the bag with her
eyes. She was quite sure that among the bundle of post-cards that were
taken out there was a letter. Also she saw her aunt give a little
start, and put it aside, and when she demanded. 'Is there no letter
for me?' Lady Merrifield's answer was,' None, my dear, from Miss
Sefton.'

Hot indignation glowed in Dolores's cheeks and eyes, more especially as