The hat was taken off and the kiss was given. There was certainly no
chignon there. Dorothy Stanbury was light haired, with almost flaxen
ringlets, worn after the old-fashioned way which we used to think so
pretty when we were young. She had very soft grey eyes, which ever
seemed to beseech you to do something when they looked at you, and
her mouth was a beseeching mouth. There are women who, even amidst
their strongest efforts at giving assistance to others, always look
as though they were asking aid themselves, and such a one was Dorothy
Stanbury. Her complexion was pale, but there was always present in
it a tint of pink running here and there, changing with every word
she spoke, changing indeed with every pulse of her heart. Nothing
ever was softer than her cheek; but her hands were thin and hard,
and almost fibrous with the working of the thread upon them. She
was rather tall than otherwise, but that extreme look of feminine
dependence which always accompanied her, took away something even
from the appearance of her height.

"These are all real, at any rate," said her aunt, taking hold of the
curls, "and won't be hurt by a little cold water."

Dorothy smiled but said nothing, and was then taken up to her
bed-room. Indeed, when the aunt and niece sat down to dinner together
Dorothy had hardly spoken. But Miss Stanbury had spoken, and things
upon the whole had gone very well.

"I hope you like roast chicken, my dear?" said Miss Stanbury.

"Oh, thank you."

"And bread sauce? Jane, I do hope the bread sauce is hot."

If the reader thinks that Miss Stanbury was indifferent to
considerations of the table, the reader is altogether ignorant of
Miss Stanbury's character. When Miss Stanbury gave her niece the
liver-wing, and picked out from the attendant sausages one that had
been well browned and properly broken in the frying, she meant to do
a real kindness.

"And now, my dear, there are mashed potatoes and bread sauce. As for
green vegetables, I don't know what has become of them. They tell me
I may have green peas from France at a shilling a quart; but if I
can't have English green peas, I won't have any."

Miss Stanbury was standing up as she said this,--as she always did on
such occasions, liking to have a full mastery over the dish.

"I hope you like it, my dear?"

"Everything is so very nice."

"That's right. I like to see a young woman with an appetite. Remember
that God sends the good things for us