"They're so tight," complained the horsewoman. "My legs have got a
lot fatter since--"

Thrusting out one of the mentioned members in a tentative kick, she
was interrupted by the popping of an already overstrained button.

"SEE!" she finished despondently. "I SAID they were too tight."

"You oughtn't to kick around that way," reproved Tess. "No wonder it
popped off. Now, I'll have to hunt for a safety-pin--"

"I don't want a safety-pin!--I'd rather let it flop."

The horsewoman continued to survey herself dubiously, took in the
bright scarlet sweater which formed the top part of her costume. The
girls had first sought a more tailored variety of coat, but peres
Merriam and O'Neill were both, selfishly, very large men; Tess had
brilliantly bethought the sweater--the English always wore scarlet
for hunting, anyway. Missy then had warmly applauded the
inspiration, but now her warmth was literal rather than figurative;
it was a hot day and the sweater was knitted of heavy wool. She
fingered her stock collar--one of Mrs. O'Neill's guest towels--and
tried to adjust her derby more securely.

"Your father has an awfully big head," she commented. "Oh, they
always wear their hats way down over their ears." Then, a little
vexed at this necessity for repeated reassurance, Tess broke out
irritably:

"If you don't want to wear the get-up, say so! I'LL wear it! I only