"
"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.
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