Mr. Edgham and Maria to oblige, and that she now was to take poor
little Maria out of pity. She, in reality, did pity Maria, for a good
many reasons. She was a shrewd woman, and she gauged Miss Ida Slome
pitilessly. However, she had to admit that she had shown some
consideration in one respect. In the midst of her teaching, and
preparations for her wedding, she had planned a lovely dress for
Maria. It was unquestionable but the realization of her own
loveliness, and her new attire had an alleviating influence upon
Maria. There was a faint buzz of admiration for her when she entered
the church. She looked as if enveloped in a soft gray cloud. Ida had
planned a dress of some gray stuff, and a soft gray hat, tied under
her chin with wide ribbons, and a long gray plume floating over her
golden-fleece of hair. Maria had never owned such a gown, and, in
addition, she had her first pair of kid-gloves of gray, to match the
dress, and long, gray coat, trimmed with angora fur. She was charming
in it, and, moreover, the gray, as her step-mother's purple,
suggested delicately, if one so chose to understand a dim yet
pleasing melancholy, a shade, as it were, of remembrance.

Maria had been dressed at home, under Mrs. White's supervision. Maria
had viewed herself in the new long mirror in her mother's room, which
was now resplendent with its new furnishings, and she admitted to
herself that she was lovelier than she had ever been, and that she
had Miss Ida Slome to thank for it.

"I will say one thing," said Mrs. White, "she has looked out for you
about your dress, and she has shown real good taste, too."

Maria turned herself about before the glass, which reflected her
whole beautiful little person, and she loved herself so much that for