but the colours were what she
had always liked, and in any one of those many dresses she might feel
at home in five minutes--they suited her so well. She could see, well
enough, that Mr. Linden not only remembered "her style" but loved
it,--in the very top rack, that was first laid open, she had proof of
this--for besides the finest of lawn and cambric, there were dainty
bands of embroidery and pieces of lace with which Faith could ruffle
herself to her heart's content.

At this point Faith drew a rather quick breath. She was on her knees
before the trunk, and shielding her face a little from Miss Linden, she
sat looking in--steadfastly at bits of French needlework and lappings
of the daintier texture, lifting now and then, also daintily--the end
or fold of something to see what lay underneath. There was so much food
for meditation, as well as for industry, in this department, that Faith
seemed not likely to get through it. How clearly she saw any one thing
might be doubted. She made no progress.

"You may see Endecott in everything, Faith," said Miss Linden. "In the
matter of quantity I could sometimes give him help, but every colour
and style had to be matched with the particular pattern in his mind. I
wish you could have seen it!--it was one of the prettiest things I ever
saw. Those three days in Paris!--I told you they were pretty days."

Faith gave her a swift look, very flushed and very grave. A pretty
picture of wonder and humility she was; and something more was borne
witness to by those soft eyes, but Miss Linden had only a second's look
of them.

The racks seemed to hold the light varieties, each done up by itself.
There was the little French parasol in its box; the fan box, with most
pretty contents. There was the glove box, beautifully filled, and
holding among the rest the prettiest of riding gauntlets--all of just
the right size, by some means. At the other end to keep this in
countenance, was a little French riding hat in its own pasteboard
container. The riding whip Mr. Linden had given her long before. There
were stockings in pretty variety; and handkerchiefs--not laced and
embroidered, but of fine material and dainty borders. The various minor
things were too many to mention.

Faith was in an overwhelmed state, though she hardly shewed that. Her
fingers made acquaintance almost fearfully with the various items that
lay in sight; finally she laid both hands upon the edge of the rack.

"It is exac