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beauty, but she had grown into quite a taking little thing, with a pretty smile and a really delicious figure—even in that hideous merino. To dress her in pink would undoubtedly provoke one of Tina’s worst tantrums. The very thought of it caused her parent to shudder violently, a manifestation that her respectful audience not unnaturally attributed to shock at their ignorant presumption.
    Alethea sighed and abandoned the dream of a slender brown-haired girl in a shell-pink ball gown. “I didn’t mean to tease you, aunt,” she said penitently. “I will wear white if you think it best.”
    Such prompt docility was quite foreign to Aunt Maria’s experience. “Dear child!” she murmured. “Always so sensible and so biddable! Clement and Verona are greatly blessed in their children. I was very happy to see Susan so careful of your dear Mama. And what is more, she bids fair to be quite charmingly pretty in a year or two. Which is a fortunate circumstance, since she can scarcely look to inherit a fortune as you did. But there! Your parents most particularly asked me not to speak of your circumstances and here I am running on about them already! Though I daresay it doesn’t signify, since it is all in the family,” she concluded, smiling very kindly at Miss Hetherstone.
    “Susan will have quite a respectable portion,” said Alethea composedly. “When Papa explained that it was not within my power to share my inheritance with her, Mama and I put our heads together and agreed that since I was so amply provided for, it was only right that Mama’s money should all be settled on Sue instead of being divided between us as was her first intention.”
    If Aunt Maria was startled at the notion of parents openly discussing such arrangements with their children, she was at least confirmed in her good opinion of her niece’s principles. Her eyes actually misted with sentimental tears, and she said impulsively, “You know, my love, I have been thinking that a soft shade of cream might be the thing for your ball dress. Not so harsh as dead white, yet quite acceptable, even to the highest sticklers. I have just the very shade in mind—the colour of cream that has set in the pan and shows golden in the folds as it wrinkles under the skimmer.”
    This vivid word picture awoke enthusiasm in her listeners. When she went on to speak of a ruched overdress, its flounces caught up with knots of ribbon or tiny posies—perhaps cherry coloured—Alethea’s eyes shone, and the speaker was obviously carried away by her own creative artistry.
    “Cherry colour is rather daring, of course,” she pondered happily, “but permissible, I think, if used with discretion.” And then stopped short, her mouth a little open, on her face an expression of arrested dismay. Her audience waited anxiously. Presently she said slowly, “But I don’t know if it will serve. A good deal depends on what Tina wishes to wear. If she chooses the green gauze, then cherry will do very well. But if it is the pink sarsenet”—she broke off, pleating her handkerchief between her fingers in nervous embarrassment; then said on a placatory note, “She is in her second season, you see, and so she may wear colours. And since she will be helping us to receive the guests it will not do for your gowns to clash. We will decide on cream for the dress, but cherry colour”—
    The door of the saloon was roughly flung open. Miss Tina Newton whirled gaily into the room. Miss Hetherstone’s lips primmed in unconscious rebuke of the unceremonious arrival. Alethea glanced up eagerly, admiration writ plain in her expression. But Miss Newton did not appear to notice that her mama was not alone.
    “Mama, Mama!” she exclaimed impetuously. “The most wonderful thing! You will never guess what I have just heard. Oh! It is beyond anything great. You must send to Madame Denise at once. I simply must have the new lilac silk for next Thursday’s theatre party. And I shall wear your