"I don't know," said the girl. "He's queer--I never met a man like
that before. But he was awfully kind; and the people just turned
their stores inside out for us--half a dozen people hurrying about
to wait on you at once!"

"You'll get used to such things," said Oliver; and then, stepping
toward the bed, "Let's see what you got."

"Most of the things haven't come," said Alice. "The gowns all have
to be fitted.--That one is for to-night," she added, as he lifted up
a beautiful object made of rose-coloured chiffon.

Oliver studied it, and glanced once or twice at the girl. "I guess
you can carry it," he said. "What sort of a cloak are you to wear?"

"Oh, the cloak!" cried Alice. "Oliver, I can't believe it's really
to belong to me. I didn't know anyone but princesses wore such
things."

The cloak was in Mrs. Montague's room, and one of the maids brought
it in. It was an opera-wrap of grey brocade, lined with unborn baby
lamb--a thing of a gorgeousness that made Montague literally gasp
for breath.

"Did you ever see anything like it in your life?" cried Alice. "And
Oliver, is it true that I have to have gloves and shoes and
stockings--and a hat--to match every gown?"

"Of course." said Oliver. "If you were doing things right, you ought
to have a cloak to match each evening gown as well."