will go home to her parents, and they will not know her, but will
think we have sent them a smallpox patient by mistake. Her eyes--"

"Oh, hush! hush, Massachusetts!" cried Maine. "Oh! poor thing! poor
thing! what shall I do? I feel as if it were all my fault, somehow."

"Your fault that she sneaked and eavesdropped, and then stole your
decoration? Oh! come, Maine, don't be fantastic!"

"No, Massachusetts, I don't mean that. But if I had only known,
myself, what they were, I should never have spoken of them, and all
this would never have happened."

"The moral of which is, study botany!" said Massachusetts.

"I'll begin to-morrow!" said Maine.

* * * * *

"And what is to be the end of the dogwood story, I wonder!" said
Tennessee, meeting Massachusetts in a breathless interval between
two exercises on the School Birthday, the crowning event of the
Harvest Festivities at Miss Wayland's. "Have you heard the last
chapter?"

"No! what is it?"

"Maine is in a dark room with the moaning Thing that was Chicago,
singing to her, and telling her about the speeches and things last
night. She vows she will not come out again to-day, just because she