a different color. When the
guests were finally permitted to enter Miss Webster's own virgin bower
their chins dropped helplessly. Only this saved them from laughing
outright.

The room was furnished as for a pampered beauty. The walls were covered
with pink silk shimmering under delicate lace. The white enamel bed and
dressing-table were bountifully draped with the same materials. Light
filtered through rustling pink. The white carpet was sprinkled with pink
roses. The trappings of the dressing-table were of crystal and gold. In
one corner stood a Psyche mirror. Two tall lamps were hooded with pink.

All saw the humor; none the pathos.

The doctor's room had been left untouched. Sentiment and the value of
the old mahogany had saved it. Miss Williams's room was also the same
little cell. She assisted to receive the guests in a new black silk
gown. Miss Webster was clad from head to foot in English crepe, with
deep collar and girdle of dull jet.

That was a memorable day in the history of the city.

Thereafter Miss Webster gave an elaborate dinner-party every Sunday
evening at seven o'clock. No patient groans greeted her invitations.
Never did a lone woman receive such unflagging attentions.

At each dinner she wore a different gown. It was at the third that she
dazzled her guests with an immense pair of diamond earrings. At the
fourth they whispered that she had been having her nails manicured. At
the fifth it was painfully evident that she was laced. At the sixth they
stared and held their breath: Miss Webster was unmistakably painted. But
it was at the tenth dinner that they were speechless and stupid: Miss
Webster wore a blond wig.

"They can just talk all they like," said the lady to her companion that
last night, as she sat before her mirror regarding her aged charms. "I
have four millions, and I shall do as I please. It's the first time I
ever could, and I intend to enjoy every privilege that wealth and
independence can give. Whose business is it, anyway?" she demanded,
querulously.

"No one's. But it is a trifle ridiculous, and you must expect people to
talk."

"They'd better talk!" There was a sudden suggestion of her brother's
personality, never before apparent. "But why is it ridiculous, I should
like to know? Hasn't a woman the right to be young if she can? I loved
Hiram. I was a faithful and devoted sister; but he took my youth, and
now that he has given it back, as it were I'll make the most of