t-door, and, listening in the parlor, the
people within could distinctly hear the rustle of silk petticoats.

"Who in the world can that be?" said Mrs. Hopkins.

Tom turned first red and then white, and rushed into the passage. Susy,
who had been crying in the shop, also appeared on the scene.

"I'll open the door," said Tom. "Do wipe your eyes, Susy; don't let her
see you crying. It's herself, of course."

The knocker was just going to be applied to the door again, when Tom
opened it with a flourish, and there stood, waiting on the steps, a very
brilliant apparition. This was no less a person than Miss Kathleen
O'Hara, in her Sunday best.

Now, Kathleen tried to bear with Mrs. Tennant's advice with regard to
her clothes in the week, but on Sundays she was absolutely determined
that her love of finery should find full vent. Accordingly, from her
store of rich and beautiful garments, she chose the gayest and the most
likely to attract attention. On the present occasion she wore a crimson
velvet toque. Her jacket was bright blue, and she had a skirt to match.
On her neck she wore a rich necklet of flaming beads, which was
extremely becoming to her; and thrown carelessly round her neck and
shoulders was a boa of white fur, and she had a muff to match.
Altogether her radiant dress and radiant face were quite sufficient to
dazzle Tom. But Susy pushed past Tom and held out her hand.

"Oh, Kathleen," she said, "I am glad you have come. You'd best come into
the shop with me; there's company in the parlor, and I don't think you'd
care about it."

Kathleen, of course, was just as pleased to stay in the shop with Susy
as to go into any other part of the house; but just then Mrs. Hopkins
put a sad, distressed face outside the door, and Mrs. Church's voice was
heard in high and grating accents:

"I want to see the person who is talking in the passage."

"Oh! don't go in," said Susy. "It's Aunt Church, and she's dreadful."

"An old lady?" cried Kathleen. "I love old ladies."

She pushed past Susy and made her appearance in the parlor.

Now, Mrs. Church was a person of discernment. She strongly objected to
gay dress on the person of little Susy Hopkins; but, as she expressed
it, she knew the quality. Had she not lived all her earlier days as
housekeeper to a widowed nobleman? Could she ever forget the fine folk
she helped to prepare for in his house? Now, Kathleen, standing in the
tiny room, had a certain look of wealth a