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turned to Adela and appraised her with mock severity. “Adela—I may call you Adela and you will call me Nancy for I see we shall be great friends—do you want to look like a drab and poor relation.”
    “Nancy,” Adela answered, grinning, “I am a drab and poor relation.”
    “No, you would not be if you did not think it of yourself, because I can assure you that Sophia does not think of you in those terms. And besides,” she added, her eyes sparkling, “Sophia could not afford the existence of a poor drab dependent relation.”
    “Really, is Lady Spencer not allowed any poor relations?” Adela asked.
    “No, you goose, of course she is not. Only Tories are allowed poor relations. Half of those stiff-rumped coves have been laughing at your aunt for years because of her addiction to charitable causes. Can you imagine their delight when they see that the beneficent Lady Spencer has her own cousin making an appearance looking like one of those unemployed orphaned kitchen maids she is so openly devoted to helping? Her critics would like to believe that a woman so publicly committed to helping the poor and the needy must be totally without concern for her own family.”
    “Yes, yes,” Sophia added, laughing. “I can just hear all the nasty old biddies, ‘Just look at dear Sophia—keeps a slave like the rest of us.’ ”
    “Ah, but I am not just any slave, I am a pianist.”
    Nancy was shaking her head. “There you are quite out. If you continue to dress like a mopey governess no one will ever see you as a pianist. Do you think that Catalani could have become a great diva in brown bombazine?”
    “Yes, I suppose I should have something suitable when, and if, I appear professionally again, but I hardly think that Helene’s is where I could find anything either affordable or suitable.”
    Meanwhile Rebecka had returned. “Oh, hello Miss Owens.” The child made her curtsy and turned to her aunt. ‘‘Isn’t Adela going to buy any new dresses?”
    Adela answered for herself, “No Rebecka, I am not going to buy anything new today.”
    “But I think you should, Adela, if only for us. Uncle Charles and I get heartily sick of the same gray and black every evening. Please don’t worry about the expense. I am a considerable heiress and Aunt Sophia and I will stake you.”
    “No, Rebecka. I thank you, but I will not agree to become indebted over the matter of clothes.” Madame Helène appeared again, most opportunely, to spirit both Sophia and Rebecka away for another fitting, leaving Miss Trowle with her new friend.
    “Adela, I hesitate to interfere, but I think you are quite wrong,” Nancy said.
    “Is it wrong to wish to avoid debt?”
    “It is, I think, in this instance. If you think of Sophia and Rebecka simply as two people to whom you might or might not owe money, then you are rejecting them, you see. They are coming to think of you, not as a dependent, but as a loved one, a sister so to speak. If you had a sister dressed as you are and she refused your help, how would you feel?”
    Adela sighed. “Perhaps you are right.”
    “I know I am. Thank Sophia and agree to the purchase of one or two gowns and trust me to keep her within bounds. Here now before Sophia returns let us select some reasonable fabric and simple patterns.”
    A few moments later Adela was lost, despite herself, in the contemplation of a deep amber silk and a cinnamon velvet.
    When consulted, Madame Helene produced a dress in the velvet already completed for a customer who had rejected it. Adela was assured that, as it had been made up for some other lady, the gown would not be prohibitively expensive.
    “Thank you. It will be perfect,” Adela said. “Do you suppose, madame, that it can be altered by tomorrow evening?”
    “Mais oui, mademoiselle.” And Madame Helène was off to find a fitter.
    “It is lovely, Adela. Will you wear it at the dinner for Count Orlov?” Nancy asked.
    “Yes, I believe so. Some other young lady has