ing in her pale-blue blouse. They
all ran down to the drawing-room, where Miss Tredgold was waiting to
receive them. She wore the old black lace dress, which suited her faded
charms to perfection. She was standing by the open French window, and
turned as her nieces came in. The girls expected her to make some remark
with regard to their appearance, but the only thing she said was to ask
them to observe the exquisite sunset.

Presently Pauline appeared. She looked pale. There were black shadows
under her eyes, and she was wearing a dirty white shirt decidedly the
worse for wear. The other girls looked at her in astonishment. Verena
gave her a quick glance of pain. Verena understood; the others were
simply amazed. Miss Tredgold flashed one glance at her, and did not look
again in her direction.

Dinner was announced in quite the orthodox fashion, and the young people
went into the dining-room. Mr. Dale was present. He was wearing quite a
decent evening suit. He had not the faintest idea that he was not still
in the old suit that had lain by unused and neglected for so many long
years. He had not the most remote conception that Miss Tredgold had taken
that suit and sent it to a tailor in London and desired him to make by
its measurements a new suit according to the existing vogue. Mr. Dale put
on the new suit when it came, and imagined that it was the old one. But,
scholar as he was, he was learning to appreciate the excellent meals Miss
Tredgold provided for him. On this occasion he was so human as to find
fault with a certain entree.

"This curry is not hot enough," he said. "I like spicy things; don't you,
Sophia?"

Miss Tredgold thought this an enormous sign of mental improvement. She
had already spoken to cook on the subject of Mr. Dale's tastes.

"Why, drat him!" was Betty's somewhat indignant answer. "In the old days
he didn't know sprats from salmon, nor butter from lard. Whatever have
you done to him, ma'am?"

"I am bringing him back to humanity," was Miss Tredgold's quiet answer.

Betty raised her eyebrows. She looked at Miss Tredgold and said to
herself:

"So quiet in her ways, so gentle, and for all so determined! Looks as
though butter wouldn't melt in her mouth; yet you daren't so much as
neglect the smallest little sauce for the poorest little _entree_ or
you'd catch it hot. She's a real haristocrat. It's a pleasure to have
dealings with her. Yes, it's a downright pleasure. When I'm not thinking
of