a cross between an unwilling nun and a ballet girl, so I took a
dislike to it. But it's as lovely as a dream. Oh, when you see it your
eyes will stick out. You must wear it tonight. It's just your style,
and I'm sure it will fit you, for our figures are so much alike."

"But it is too late."

"'Tisn't. It's not more than half an hour since Uncle George and Aunt
Bella went. I'll have you ready in a twinkling."

"But the fire--and the children!"

"I'll stay here and look after both. I won't burn the house down, and
if the twins wake up I'll give them--what is it you give
them--soothing syrup? So go at once and get you ready, while I fly
over for the dress. I'll fix your hair up when I get back."

Margaret was gone before Aunt Beatrice could speak again. Her niece's
excitement seized hold of her too. She flung the stockings into the
basket and the basket into the closet.

"I will go--and I won't do another bit of darning tonight. I hate
it--I hate it--I hate it! Oh, how much good it does me to say it!"

When Margaret came flying up the stairs Aunt Beatrice was ready save
for hair and dress. Margaret cast the gown on the bed, revealing all
its beauty of jetted lace and soft yellow silk with a dextrous sweep
of her arm. Aunt Beatrice gave a little cry of admiration.

"Isn't it lovely?" demanded Margaret. "And I've brought you my opera
cape and my fascinator and my black satin slippers with the cunningest
gold buckles, and some sweet pale yellow roses that Uncle Ned gave me
yesterday. Oh, Aunt Beatrice! What magnificent arms and shoulders you
have! They're like marble. Mine are so scrawny I'm just ashamed to
have people know they belong to me."

Margaret's nimble fingers were keeping time with her tongue. Aunt
Beatrice's hair went up as if by magic into soft puffs and waves and
twists, and a golden rose was dropped among the bronze masses. Then
the lovely dress was put on and pinned and looped and pulled until it
fell into its simple, classical lines around the tall, curving figure.
Margaret stepped back and clapped her hands admiringly.

"Oh, Auntie, you're beautiful! Now I'll pop down for the cloak and
fascinator. I left them hanging by the fire."

When Margaret had gone Aunt Beatrice caught up the lamp and tiptoed
shamefacedly across the hall to the icy-cold spare room. In the long
mirror she saw herself reflected from top to toe--or was it herself!
Could it be--that gracious woman with the sweet eyes and flush