y.

"I think it would be lovely," shrieked the maid.

"Well, shake it out then," said Aunt Mary, "it ought to be in the
fashion--all the silk they put in the sleeves. An' if you'll do my hair
just as you did it yesterday--"

"Yes, I will."

Then the labor of the toilette began in good earnest, and three-quarters
of an hour later Aunt Mary was done, and sitting by the window while
Janice laced her boots.

A rap sounded at the door.

"Come in," cried the maid.

It was Jack with a regular fagot of American Beauties.

"Well, Aunt Mary," he cried with his customary hearty greeting. "How!"

"How what?" asked Aunt Mary, whose knowledge of Sioux social customs had
been limited by the border line of New England.

Jack laughed. "How are you?" he asked in correction of his imperfect
phrasing. And then he handed over the rose wood.

"I'm pretty well," said his aunt; "but, my goodness you mustn't bring me
so many presents--you--"

Jack stopped her words with a kiss. "Now, Aunt Mary, don't you scold,
because you're my company and I won't have it. This is my treat, and just
don't you fret. What do you say to your roses?"

Aunt Mary looked a bit uneasy.

"They're pretty big," she hesitated.

"That's the fashion," said Jack; "the longer you can buy 'em the better
the girls like it. I tried to get you some eight feet long but they only
had two of that number and I wanted the whole bunch to match--"

He was interrupted by another rap on the door.

"Hallo!" he cried. "Come in."

It was Mitchell with several dozen carnations, the most brilliant yet
prized--or priced.

"Well, I declare!" exclaimed Aunt Mary.

"For you, Miss Watkins," cried the newcomer, gracefully offering his
homage, "with the assurance of my sincere regret that I came on the scene
too late to have been making a scene with you fifty years ago."

"I didn't quite catch that," said Aunt Mary, rapturously. But never
mind,--Granite, get a tin basin or suthin' for these flowers."

"Where's Burnett?" Jack asked the newcomer,--"isn't he dressed? It's
getting late."

"He's all right," said Mitchell; "he and Clover are--here they are!"

The two came in together at that second. Clover's mustache just showed
over the top of the largest bunch of violets ever constructed, and Burnett
bore with assiduous care a bouquet of orchids tied with a Roman sash.

Aunt Mary leaned back and shut her eyes. If it hadn't been for her smile,
they might possibly have feare