ss in white, dear?"

"If nobody thought it too awful I would. Dad never believed in
mourning."

"Quite agree. Most peculiar that I should agree with him, but I do. Don
does not believe in mourning, either. I should be most annoyed if he
wore mourning. Was your mother pretty? Don't tell me if it makes you
cry. What beautiful hair you have. Hasn't she beautiful hair, Don? May I
take your hat off, dear?"

"Of course," said Flamby, taking off her hat immediately, whereupon the
mop of unruly hair all coppery waves and gold-flecked foam came tumbling
about her face.

"Dear me," continued Mrs. Chumley, whilst Don stood behind her watching
the scene amusedly, "it _is_ remarkable hair." Indeed the sight of
Flamby's hair seemed almost to have stupefied her. "She is really very
pretty. I like you awfully, dear. I am glad you are going to live near
me. What did you call her, Don?"

"What did I call her, Aunt?"

"When you first came in. Oh, yes--a squirrel." She placed her arm around
Flamby and gave her a little hug. "Quite agree; she _is_ a squirrel. You
are a country squirrel, dear. Do you mind?"

"Of course not," said Flamby, laughing. "You couldn't pay me a nicer
compliment."

"No," replied Mrs. Chumley, lapsing into thoughtful mood. "I suppose I
couldn't. Squirrels are very pretty. I am afraid I was never like a
squirrel. How many inches are you round the waist?"

"I don't know. About twenty," replied Flamby, suddenly stricken with
shyness; "but I'm only little."

"Are you little, dear? I should not have called you little. You are
taller than I am."

Since Mrs. Chumley was far from tall, the criterion was peculiar, but
Flamby accepted it without demur. "I'm wearing high heels," she said. "I
am no taller than you, really."

"I should have thought you were, dear. I am glad you wear high heels.
They are so smart. It's a mistake to wear low heels. Men hate them.
Don't you think men hate them, Don?"

"The consensus of modern masculine opinion probably admits distaste for
flat-heeled womanhood, in spite of classic tradition."

"Dear me, that might be Paul Mario. Do you like Paul Mario,
dear?"--turning again to Flamby and repeating the little hug.

Flamby lowered her head quickly. "Yes," she replied.

"I thought you would. He's so handsome. Don't you think him handsome?"

"Yes."

"He is astonishingly clever, too. Everybody is talking about what they
call his New Gospel. Do you believe in his New Gospel, dear?"