"_I_ didn't wait to get an umbrella," Missy couldn't forebear
commenting, slightly slurring the truth.

Tess seemed a bit annoyed. "Well, you didn't HAVE to go out in the
rain anyway. Guess I can be depended on to look out for my own pony,
can't I?"

But Missy's tactful rejoinder that she'd only feared Tess mightn't
be able to accomplish the longer distance, served to dissipate the
shadow of jealousy. Before the summer storm had impetuously spent
itself, the friends were crowded companionably in the feed-box,
feeding the reassured Gypsy peppermint sticks--Tess had met Arthur
Simpson on her way to the Library--and talking earnestly.

The earnest talk was born of an illustration Tess had seen in a
magazine at the Library. It was a society story and the illustration
showed the heroine in riding costume.

"She looked awfully swagger," related Tess. "Flicking her crop
against her boot, and a derby hat and stock-collar and riding-
breeches. I think breeches are a lot more swagger than habits."

"Do you think they're a little bit--indelicate?" ventured Missy,
remembering her mother's recent invective against tomboys.

"Of course not!" denied Tess disdainfully. "Valerie Jones in Macon
City wears 'em and she's awfully swell. Her father's a banker. She's
in the thick of things at the Country Club. It's depasse to ride
side-saddle, anyway."