Chapter XVI. Hospitality Without Grudging

By arrangement made the previous evening Jane was awake before the family was astir and in Nora's hands preparing for a morning ride with Larry, who was to give her her first lesson in equitation.

"Your habit will be too big for me, Nora, I am afraid," she said.

"Habit!" cried Nora. "My pants, you mean. You can pull them up, you know. There they are."

"Pants!" gasped Jane. "Pants! Nora, pants! Do you mean to say you wear these things where all the men will see you?" Even in the seclusion of her bedroom Jane's face at the thought went a fiery red. Nora laughed at her scornfully. "Oh, but I can't possibly go out in these before Larry. I won't ride at all. Haven't you a skirt, a regular riding habit?"

But Nora derided her scruples. "Why, Jane, we all wear them here."

"Does Kathleen?"

"Of course she does, and Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, and everybody."

"Oh, she might, but I am sure your mother would not."

Nora shouted joyfully. "Well, that is true, she never has, but then she has never ridden out here. Put them on, hurry up, your legs are straight enough, your knees don't knock."

"Oh, Nora, they are just terrible," said Jane, almost in tears. "I know I will just squat down if Larry looks at me."

"Why should he look at you? Don't you ever let on but that you have worn them often, and he will never think of looking at you."

In face of many protests Jane was at length arrayed in her riding apparel.

"Why, you look perfectly stunning," said Nora. "You have got just the shape for them. Pull them up a little. There, that is better. Now step out and let me see you."

Jane walked across the room and Nora rocked in laughter. "Oh, Nora, I will just take them off. You are as mean as you can be. I will pull them off."

"Not a bit," said Nora, still laughing, "only stretch your legs a bit when you walk. Don't mince along. Stride like a man. These men have had all the fun in the matter of clothes. I tell you it was one of the proudest moments of my life when I saw my own legs walking. Now step out and swing your arms. There, you are fine, a fine little chap, Jane, round as a barrel, and neat as a ballet dancer, although I never saw one except in magazines."

Trim and neat Jane looked, the riding suit showing off the beautiful lines of her round, shapely figure. Shrinking, blushing, and horribly conscious of her pants, Jane followed Nora from her bedroom. A swift glance she threw around the room. To her joy it was empty but for Mrs. Gwynne, who was ready with a big glass of rich milk and a slice of home-made bread and delicious butter.

"Good morning, my dear," said Mrs. Gwynne, kissing her. "You will