thicket of roses, and she hadn't the courage to lift her eyes, from fear
that Eliza would see how foolish she was to care about what the little
French woman said.

Eliza saw all this, but it only made that grim smile broader and deeper
on her own face; and when the golden-brown hair was frizzed and rolled,
and dropped in two rich curls on that white shoulder, she turned her
face upon the French woman and said, "Very nice!" in a way that made the
little woman put her head on one side, and nod it half a dozen times,
while she answered:

"Yes, I tink so."

India gauze was dropped like a cloud over Caroline's head; the sash of
purplish blue was girded around her waist, and bunched up in superb bows
behind; then the cloudy stuff was gathered up in drapery from a silken
under-skirt, tinted like the sash, and fastened back with clusters of
the moss-roses.

This completed the toilet. No jewels were there, not even a string of
pearls, though Olympia had ropes of them; and Caroline rather sighed for
their completeness when she took a full-length view of herself in the
mirror, as foolish girls will, who never learn the value of simplicity
and freshness until both are lost.

Then the little French woman went away to Olympia, giving Caroline
plenty of time for reflection. The first thing the girl did was to look
shyly at Eliza, who pursed up her lips, and did her best to keep from
smiling. Then she took courage, and said:

"Eliza."

"I hear," answered the grim hand-maiden.

"Eliza, do you think _he_ would know me in this dress? Or, if so, would
he like it, as he did that dear Italian costume?"

"I don't know," answered Eliza. "Them Italians have queer notions about
dress. Now, for my part, them short skirts and low-necked waists did
well enough for common-sized girls; but you're too tall, and carry your
head too high, for anything but a skirt that sweeps out and puffs up
like that."

"Still, I shall always like the dear old costume, Eliza. Oh, what a
happy, happy life madame broke up when she sent for us!"

"Yes, I suppose so. You seemed to enjoy it; and as for that young
fellow, what with his boating on the river, his shooting birds--which I
hate--on the hills, and his lessons--well, really, he might about as
well have lived with us."

"Oh! Eliza, shall we ever be so happy again?" cried the girl, kindling
up with bright memories.

"Not just in the same way; real folks never are. But I suppose people
have a pretty