vey her on all sides. Conscious of her charms, she was in her best
humour: her rather small blue eyes sparkled gleefully. She was going to
bestow on me a kiss, in her school-girl fashion of showing her delights
but I said, "Steady! Let us be Steady, and know what we are about, and
find out the meaning of our magnificence"--and so put her off at arm's
length, to undergo cooler inspection.

"Shall I do?" was her question.

"Do?" said I. "There are different ways of doing; and, by my word, I
don't understand yours."

"But how do I look?"

"You look well dressed."

She thought the praise not warm enough, and proceeded to direct
attention to the various decorative points of her attire. "Look at this
_parure_," said she. "The brooch, the ear-rings, the bracelets: no one
in the school has such a set--not Madame herself."

"I see them all." (Pause.) "Did M. de Bassompierre give you those
jewels?"

"My uncle knows nothing about them."

"Were they presents from Mrs. Cholmondeley?"

"Not they, indeed. Mrs. Cholmondeley is a mean, stingy creature; she
never gives me anything now."

I did not choose to ask any further questions, but turned abruptly away.

"Now, old Crusty--old Diogenes" (these were her familiar terms for me
when we disagreed), "what is the matter now?"

"Take yourself away. I have no pleasure in looking at you or your
_parure_."

For an instant, she seemed taken by surprise.

"What now, Mother Wisdom? I have not got into debt for it--that is, not
for the jewels, nor the gloves, nor the bouquet. My dress is certainly
not paid for, but uncle de Bassompierre will pay it in the bill: he
never notices items, but just looks at the total; and he is so rich,
one need not care about a few guineas more or less."

"Will you go? I want to shut the door.... Ginevra, people may tell you
you are very handsome in that ball-attire; but, in _my_ eyes, you will
never look so pretty as you did in the gingham gown and plain straw
bonnet you wore when I first saw you."

"Other people have not your puritanical tastes," was her angry reply.
"And, besides, I see no right you have to sermonize me."

"Certainly! I have little right; and you, perhaps, have still less to
come flourishing and fluttering into my chamber--a mere jay in borrowed
plumes. I have not the least respect for your feathers, Miss Fanshawe;
and especially the peacock's eyes you call a _parure_: very pretty
things, if you had bought them with money whic