sat in
the window-seat several minutes longer, then started aimlessly
up-stairs to her room. In the upper hall the door leading into the attic
stairway stood open, and for no reason save that she had nothing else to
do, she began to mount the steps. She had not been up in the attic since
Christmas week, when she and Rob had gone to finish his Christmas hunt.

She stood looking around her an instant, then, moved by some
unaccountable impulse, drew out the chest containing the fancy-dress
costumes they had used in so many plays and tableaux. One by one she
shook them out and hung them over Rob's headless hobby-horse, when she
had finished examining them. There were the velvet knickerbockers and
blouse she had worn as Little Boy Blue at the Hallowe'en party at the
Seminary. There was Betty's Dresden Shepherdess dress, and the
godmother's gown, and the long trailing robe of the Princess Winsome.
Even the little tulle dress she had worn as the Queen of Hearts at
Ginger's Valentine party, years ago, came out of the chest as she dived
deeper into its contents, and a star-spangled costume of red, white, and
blue, in which she had fluttered as the Goddess of Liberty one Fourth of
July.

Slippers and buckles and plumes, fans and gloves and artificial
flowers, were piled up all around her. The hobby-horse was hidden under
a drapery of velvet and lace and silk. Still the chest held a number of
old party gowns that had never been cut down to fit their childish
revels.

As Lloyd shook them out, thinking of the gay scenes they had been a part
of, the picture of Agnes Waring in her worn jacket and shabby shoes
flashed across her mind, followed by Mrs. Bisbee's remark: "She's never
had any of the pleasures that most girls have. Twenty-five years old,
and to my certain knowledge she's never had a beau or been to a big
party, or travelled farther than Louisville."

Lloyd pressed her lips together and stood staring at the old finery
around her, thinking hard. A sudden vision had come to her of this
modern Cinderella, and of herself as the fairy godmother. Her eyes shone
and her cheeks grew pink as she stood pondering. If she could only make
an occasion, it would be easy enough to provide the coach and the
costume, even the glass slippers. There lay a pair of white satin ones,
beaded in tiny crystal beads that shone like dewdrops. Suppose she
should play godmother and send Agnes to a ball. Suppose the shy, timid
girl should look so fin