"I am afraid--I don't think--I quite like my new dress."

"That _is_ unfortunate."

"That would not matter; I never like anything till I have altered it;
but here is Baldwin has just sent me word that her mother is dying,
and she can't undertake any work for a week. Provoking! could not the
woman die just as well after the ball?"

"Oh, aunt!"

"And my maid has no more taste than an owl. What on earth am I to do?"

"Wear another dress."

"What other can I?"

"Nothing can be prettier than your white mousseline de soie with the
tartan trimming."

"No, I have worn that at four balls already; I won't be known by my
colors, like a bird. I have made up my mind to wear the jaune, and I
will, in spite of them all; that is, if I can find anybody who cares
enough for me to try it on, and tell me what it wants." Lucy offered
at once to go with her to her room and try it on.

"No--no--it is so cold there; we will do it here by the fire. You will
find it in the large wardrobe, dear. Mind how you carry it. Lucy! lots
of pins."