muslin, and velvet, and brilliant broad ribbons.

'Now, miss,' said Mrs. Dyson, when her own especial charge were all
ready, 'what can I do for you? You have not got another frock here,
have you?' No, indeed, she had not; nor if she had had one, would it
have been of a smarter nature than her present thick white dimity. So
she could only wash her face and hands, and submit to the nurse's
brushing and perfuming her hair. She thought she would rather have
stayed in the park all night long, and slept under the beautiful quiet
cedar, than have to undergo the unknown ordeal of 'going down to
dessert,' which was evidently regarded both by children and nurses as
the event of the day. At length there was a summons from a footman, and
Mrs. Dyson, in a rustling silk gown, marshalled her convoy, and set
sail for the dining-room door.

There was a large party of gentlemen and ladies sitting round the
decked table, in the brilliantly lighted room. Each dainty little child
ran up to its mother, or aunt, or particular friend; but Molly had no
one to go to.

'Who is that tall girl in the thick white frock? Not one of the
children of the house, I think?'

The lady addressed put up her glass, gazed at Molly, and dropped it in
an instant. 'A French girl, I should imagine. I know Lady Cuxhaven was
inquiring for one to bring up with her little girls, that they might
get a good accent early. Poor little woman, she looks wild and
strange!' And the speaker, who sate next to Lord Cumnor, made a little
sign to Molly to come to her; Molly crept up to her as to the first
shelter; but when the lady began talking to her in French, she blushed