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At this moment Mrs. Merivale glides into the room, a floating ensemble of velvet, silk, lace, bugles, feathers, and what not; one of those costumes in which you can accuse nothing of being predominant, and as a whole is perfect.

"Mother!" gasp both the girls. "What a lovely dress, and how nicely Lane has done your hair!"

Lane sniffs gracious approval of this compliment, and turning to her mistress says, "I think Miss Doris will do, ma'am?"

Holding her double eye-glass up by its beautiful mother-of-pearl handle, the mother makes a critical survey of her daughter from head to foot, then dropping it languidly to her side she nods encouragingly. "Yes, very nice. Nothing like white silk for very young girls. Satin is too old looking. Honor, your dressing does you credit, dear; you have done her hair charmingly. Now you may as well come down at once with me, Doris. Have you everything—fan, handkerchief, gloves? Oh, I see you have those on! wise girl to get them nicely arranged before you leave your room."