nor saw the wet clothes surreptitiously drying behind a screen at the radiator.
Jane was composed and demure at breakfast, and wore her best hat to school. Mark and Alan ate hastily and silently. Jane said to them, as she stepped out upon the door-stone:
"I didn't mind. Suppose you really were frozen on the yard; it would be much awfuller."
Which, considering that they knew nothing of the cause of Jane's ducking, mystified the boys exceedingly. They looked after her, down Chesley Street. She appeared to be studying her French history, which she had again forgotten. Mark shook his head.
"What do you suppose she'll ever tell the aunts about her hat?" he asked his brother reflectively, as they set out for school. As a matter of fact, no one ever did find out what Jane said about her hat, or, indeed, thought again of hats, old or best. This was because of the astounding news—astounding, certainly, to the Ingram family—which Mark and Alan brought back from school that day and laid before their wondering relatives.
