t she look handsome, Gertie? I _never_ saw
her look _so_ handsome. She'll be the finest figure there. There's no
such delicate waist anywhere.' And she set her two slender little
forefingers and thumbs together, as if spanning it. 'You've no chance
beside her, Gertie; she'll set all the young fellows a-sighing and
simpering.'

'You wicked little rogue! I'll beat you black and blue, for making fun
of old Aunt Becky,' cried Miss Rebecca, and ran a little race at her,
about two inches to a step; her fan raised in her finger and thumb, and
a jolly smile twinkling in her face, for she knew it was true about her
waist, and she liked to be quizzed by the daring little girl. Her
diamonds were on too, and her last look in her mirror had given her a
satisfactory assurance, and she always played with little Lily, when
they met; everyone grew gay and girlish with her.

So they stayed a full quarter of an hour, and the footman coughing
laboriously outside the window reminded Aunt Rebecca at last how time
flew; and Lily was for sitting down and playing a minuet and a country
dance, and making them rehearse their steps, and calling in old Sally to
witness the spectacle before they went; and so she and Aunt Becky had
another little sportive battle--they never met, and seldom parted,
without one. How was it that when gay little Lily provoked these little
mimic skirmishes Aunt Becky would look for a second or two an
inexpressibly soft and loving look upon her, and become quite girlish
and tender? I think there is a way to every heart, and some few have the
gift to reach it unconsciously and always.

So away rustled the great ladies, leaving Lily excited, and she stood at
the window, with flushed cheek, and her fingers on the sash, looking
after them, and she came back with a little smile and tears in her eyes.
She sat down, with a bright colour in her cheeks, and did play a country
dance, and then a merry old Irish air, full of frolic and spirit, on the
harpsichord; and gentle old Sally's face peeped in with a wistful smile,
at the unwonted sounds.

'Come, sober old Sally, my sweetheart! I've taken a whim in my head, and
you shall dress me, for to the ball I'll go.'

'Tut, tut, Miss Lily, darling,' said old Sally, with a smile and a shake
of the head. 'What would the doctors say?'

'What they please, my darling.'

And up stood little Lily, with her bright colour and lustrous eyes.

'Angel bright!' said the old woman, looking in