"You look as gay as a parrot in your fez and cabaja, and it does my
heart good to see the little black shadow turned into a rainbow,"
said Uncle Alec, surveying the bright figure before him with great
approbation.

He did not say it, but he thought she made a much prettier picture
than Phebe at the wash-tub, for she had stuck a purple fez on her
blonde head, tied several brilliant scarfs about her waist, and put
on a truly gorgeous scarlet jacket with a golden sun embroidered
on the back, a silver moon on the front, and stars of all sizes on the
sleeves. A pair of Turkish slippers adorned her feet, and necklaces
of amber, coral, and filigree hung about her neck, while one hand
held a smelling-bottle, and the other the spicy box of oriental
sweetmeats.

"I feel like a girl in the 'Arabian Nights,' and expect to find a magic
carpet or a wonderful talisman somewhere. Only I don't see how I
ever can thank you for all these lovely things," she said, stopping
her dance, as if suddenly oppressed with gratitude.

"I'll tell you how by leaving off the black clothes, that never should
have been kept so long on such a child, and wearing the gay ones
I've brought. It will do your spirits good, and cheer up this sober
old house. Won't it, auntie?"

"I think you are right, Alec, and it is fortunate that we have not
begun on her spring clothes yet, for Myra thought she ought not to
wear anything brighter than violet, and she is too pale for that."

"You just let me direct Miss Hemming how to make some of these