tissue paper and tape, and beds and couches and chairs were covered
with boxes, in which lay wonderful symphonies of colour, half
disclosed in their wrappings of gauze. In the midst of it all stood
the girl, her eyes shining with excitement.

"Oh, Allan!" she cried, as they entered. "How am I ever to thank
you?"

"You're not to thank me," Montague replied. "This is all Oliver's
doings."

"Oliver!" exclaimed the girl, and turned to him. "How in the world
could you do it?" she cried. "How will you ever get the money to pay
for it all?"

"That's my problem," said the man, laughing. "All you have to think
about is to look beautiful."

"If I don't," was her reply, "it won't be for lack of clothes. I
never saw so many wonderful things in all my life as I've seen
to-day."

"There's quite a show of them," admitted Oliver.

"And Reggie Mann! It was so queer, Allan! I never went shopping with
a man before. And he's so--so matter-of-fact. You know, he bought
me--everything!"

"That was what he was told to do," said Oliver. "Did you like him?"