s everything ready in her room, and are you sure you understand
how they go?"

"Oh, yes, sir; but they are so funny! I know Miss Rose will think it's a
joke," and Phebe laughed as if something tickled her immensely.

"Never mind what she thinks so long as she obeys. Tell her to do it for
my sake, and she will find it the best joke she ever saw. I expect to
have a tough time of it, but we'll win yet," said the Doctor, as he
marched upstairs with the book in his hand, and an odd smile on his
face.

There was such a clatter of tongues in the sewing-room that no one heard
his tap at the door, so he pushed it open and took an observation. Aunt
Plenty, Aunt Clara, and Aunt Jessie were all absorbed in gazing at Rose,
who slowly revolved between them and the great mirror, in a full winter
costume of the latest fashion.

"Bless my heart! worse even than I expected," thought the Doctor, with
an inward groan, for, to his benighted eyes, the girl looked like a
trussed fowl, and the fine new dress had neither grace, beauty, nor
fitness to recommend it.

The suit was of two peculiar shades of blue, so arranged that patches of
light and dark distracted the eye. The upper skirt was tied so lightly
back that it was impossible to take a long step, and the under one
was so loaded with plaited frills that it "wobbled" no other word
will express it ungracefully, both fore and aft. A bunch of folds was
gathered up just below the waist behind, and a great bow rode a-top. A
small jacket of the same material was adorned with a high ruff at the
back, and laid well open over the breast, to display some lace and a
locket. Heavy fringes, bows, puffs, ruffles, and revers finished off the
dress, making one's head ache to think of the amount of work wasted,
for not a single graceful line struck the eye, and the beauty of the
material was quite lost in the profusion of ornament.

A high velvet hat, audaciously turned up in front, with a bunch of pink
roses and a sweeping plume, was cocked over one ear, and, with her curls
braided into a club at the back of her neck, Rose's head looked more
like that of a dashing young cavalier than a modest little girl's.
High-heeled boots tilted her well forward, a tiny muff pinioned her
arms, and a spotted veil, tied so closely over her face that her
eyelashes were rumpled by it, gave the last touch of absurdity to her
appearance.

"Now she looks like other girls, and as I like to see her," Mrs. Clara
was sa