at time, ladies of all ages wore
their dresses low and square at the neck, edged with a tucker of nett or
lace; the sleeves ended at the elbows with a little white ruffle of
similar material to the tucker. In London, the low head-dress was
coming into fashion; but country ladies still wore the high commode, a
superb erection of lace and muslin, from one to three feet in height.
Long black silk mittens were drawn up to _meet_ the sleeves. The shoes
reached nearly to the ankles, and were finished with large silver
buckles.

Rhoda was much smarter. She wore a cotton gown--for when all cotton
gowns were imported from India, they were rare and costly articles--of
an involved shawl-like pattern, in which the prevailing colour was red.
Underneath was a petticoat of dark blue quilted silk. Her commode was
brightened by blue ribbons; she wore no mittens; and her shoe-buckles
rivalled those of her grandmother. Rhoda's figure was good, but her
face was commonplace. She was neither pretty nor ugly, neither
intellectual nor stupid-looking. Of course she wore powder (as also did
Madam); but if her hair had been released from its influence, it would
have been perceived that there was about it a slight, very slight, tinge
of red.

The coming of her cousin was an event of the deepest interest to Rhoda,
for she had been ever since her birth absolutely without any society of
her own age. Never having had an opportunity of measuring herself by
other girls, Rhoda imagined herself a most learned and accomplished
young person. It would be such a triumph to see Phoebe find it out, and
such a pleasure to receive--with a becoming deprecation which meant
nothing--the admiration of one so far her inferior. Rhoda had dipped
into a score or two of her grandfather's books, had picked up sundry
fine words and technical phrases, with a smattering of knowledge, or
what would pass for it; and she sat radiant in the contemplation of the
delightful future which was to exalt herself and overawe Phoebe.

So lost was she in her own imaginations, that she neither heard Madam
ring her little hand-bell, nor was conscious that the horses had trotted
past the window, until Sukey, one of Madam's maids, came in answer to
the bell, and courtesying, said, "An it please you, Madam, Mrs Phoebe
Latrobe."

Rhoda lifted her eyes eagerly, and saw her cousin. The first item which
she noticed was that Phoebe's figure was by no means so good as her own,
her sho