s jerking capably at the
fastenings.

"With the spoiled airs of you, and Willard Nash sending to Wells for
flowers, when his father clerked in a drygoods store at his age----"

"Oh, carnations are cheap--or he wouldn't get them."

"These aren't cheap, then."

The smaller box was full of white violets.

"Give them to me. No, you can't see the card. You don't deserve to.
You're too cross, and besides you wouldn't like it. Do my two top hooks.
Now, am I perfectly beautiful?"

Under her capable hands a pretty miracle had been going on, common
enough, but always new. Ruffle above ruffle, the soft, shapeless mass of
white had shaken itself into its proper lines and contours, lightly,
like a bird's plumage settling itself, and with it the change that comes
when a woman with the inborn, unteachable trick of wearing clothes puts
on a perfect gown, had come to her slight girl's figure. It looked
softer, rounder, and more lightly poised. Her throat looked whiter above
the encircling folds of white. Her shy half smile was sweeter. The white
violets, caught to her high girdle, were sweeter, too.

Norah surrendered, her voice husky and reluctant.

"You're too good for them."

"For the G. H. S. dance? For Willard?" Judith pretended great humility:
"Nana!"

"There's others you're more than too good for. Others----"

"Nana, don't."

"Come here." Norah put two heavy hands on her shoulders and regarded her
grimly. It was the kind of look that Judith used to associate with
second sight, and dread. It was quite formidable still. But Judith met
it steadily, with something mature and assured about her look that had
nothing to do with the softness and sweetness of her in her fluffy
draperies, something that had no place in the heart of a child;
something that Norah saw.

"Too good for them, and you know it," pronounced Norah. "You know it too
well. You know too many things. A heart of gold you've got, but your
head will rule your heart."

"Nonsense." Norah permitted herself to be kissed, still looking
forbidding, but holding Judith tight.

"Little white lamb, may you find what's good enough for you," she
conceded, unexpectedly, "and may you know it when you find it."

"You're an old dear, and you're good enough for me."

Downstairs there was a more critical audience to face. Judith saw it in
the library door, and stood still on the stair landing, looking down.
She held her head high, and coloured faintly. She looked very