rst dance, and her first evening gown; it was a memorable scene,
fit to immortalize with the first love-letter and the first proposal, in
a series of pictures of great moments in a girl's life--chosen by some
masculine illustrator, touchingly confident that he knows what the great
moments of a girl's life are. Judith seemed to be taking this moment too
calmly for one.

The dress lay ready on the bed, fluffy and light and sheer, a white
dream of a dress, with two unopened florist's boxes beside it, but there
was no picturesque disarray of excited toilet-making in her big,
brightly lighted room, and no dream-promoting candlelight. And there
were no pennants or football trophies disfiguring the daintily flowered
wall paper, and no pictures or programs in the mirror of the dainty
dressing-table; there was no other young girl's room in town where they
were prohibited, but there was no other room so charming as Judith's,
all blue-flowered chintz and bird's-eye maple and white fur rugs, and
whiter covers and curtains.

Judith was the most charming and immaculate thing in the room, as she
stood before the cheval-glass, bare armed and slim and straight in
beruffled, beribboned white, pinning the soft, pale braids tight around
her small, high-poised head. Quite the most charming thing, and Norah,
fingering the dress on the bed disapprovingly, and giving her keen,
sidelong glances, was aware of it, but did not believe in compliments,
even to the creature she loved best in the world.

Her mouth was set and her brown eyes were bright with the effort of
repressing them. Judith, seeing her face in the glass, turned suddenly
and slipped her arms round the formidable old creature's neck, and
laughed at her.

"Don't you think I'm perfectly beautiful?" she demanded. "If you really
love me, why not tell me so?"

"Your colour's good." Judith pressed a delicately flushed cheek to
Norah's, and attempted a butterfly kiss, which she evaded grimly. "Good
enough--healthy and natural."

"Oh, no. I made it. Oh, with hot water and then cold, I mean. Nana,
don't begin about rouge. Don't be silly. That red stuff in the box on
mother's dresser is only nail paste, truly."

"Who sent the flowers?"

"Look and see."

"Much you care, if you'll let me look."

"Do you want me to care?"

"Much you care about the flowers or the party."

Judith had caught up the alluring dress without a second glance, and
slipped it expertly over her head, and wa