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“Now I could die content; I’m perfect in all respects, and I know Jack won’t be ashamed of me. I really owe it to him to look my best, you know, and that’s why I’m so particular,” said Kitty, in an apologetic tone, as she began to lay away her finery.

“I hope you will enjoy every minute of the time, deary. Don’t forget to finish running up the facing; I’ve basted it carefully, and would do it if my head didn’t ache so, I really can’t hold it up any longer,” answered Pris, who had worked like a disinterested bee, while Kitty had flown about like a distracted butterfly.

“Go and lie down, you dear, kind soul, and don’t think of my nonsense again,” said Kitty, feeling remorseful, till Pris was comfortably asleep, when she went to her room and revelled in her finery till bedtime. So absorbed was she in learning to manage her train gracefully, that she forgot the facing till very late. Then, being worn out with work and worry, she did, what girls are too apt to do, stuck a pin here and there, and, trusting to Priscilla’s careful bastings, left it as it was, retiring to dream of a certain Horace Fletcher, whose aristocratic elegance had made a deep impression upon her during the few evenings she had seen him.

Nothing could have been lovelier than the morning, and few hearts happier than Kitty’s, as she arrayed herself with the utmost care, and waited in solemn state for the carriage; for muslin trains and dewy roads were incompatible, and one luxury brought another.

“My goodness, where did she get that stylish suit?” whispered Miss Smith to Miss Jones, as Kitty floated into the station with all sail set, finding it impossible to resist the temptation to astonish certain young ladies who had snubbed her in times past, which snubs had rankled, and were now avenged.

“I looked everywhere for a muslin for to-day and couldn’t find any I liked, so I was forced to wear my mauve silk,” observed Miss Smith, complacently settling the silvery folds of her dress.

“It’s very pretty, but one ruins a silk at Class Day, you know. I thought this organdie would be more comfortable and appropriate this warm day. A friend brought it from Paris, and it’s like one the Princess of Wales wore at the great flower-show this year,” returned Kitty, with the air of a young lady who had all her dresses from Paris, and was intimately acquainted with the royal family.

“Those girls” were entirely extinguished by this stroke, and hadn’t a word to say for themselves, while Kitty casually mentioned Horace Fletcher, Lyceum Hall, and Cousin Jack, for they had only a little Freshman brother to boast of, and were not going to Lyceum Hall.

As she stepped out of the cars at Cambridge, Jack opened his honest blue eyes and indulged in a low whistle of astonishment: for if there was anything he especially hated, it was the trains, chignons and tiny bonnets then in fashion. He was very fond of Kitty, and prided himself on being able to show his friends a girl who was charming, and yet not over-dressed.

“She has made a regular guy of herself; I won’t tell her so, and the dear little soul shall have a jolly time in spite of her fuss and feathers. But I do wish she had let her hair alone and worn that pretty hat of hers.”

As this thought passed through Jack’s mind he smiled and bowed and made his way among the crowd, whispering as he drew his cousin’s arm through his own,–

“Why, Kitty, you’re got up regardless of expense, aren’t you? I’m so glad you came, we’ll have a rousing good time, and you shall see all the fun.”

“Oh, thank you, Jack! Do I look nice, really? I tried to be a credit to you and Pris, and I did have such a job of it. I’ll make you laugh over it some time. A carriage for me? Bless us, how fine we are!” and Kitty stepped in, feeling that only one thing more was needed to make her cup overflow. That one thing was speedily vouchsafed, for before her skirts were smoothly settled, Jack called out, in his hearty way,–