a long time, and when she came back it was with red cheeks and ruffled
curls. Having left the company in tears she did not like to venture back
for fear of the remarks which might be made. So she crossed the hall and
stood in the door of the guest chamber, considering what to do next. Its
usual chill repellance had been changed into something inviting by the
wood fire on the hearth, and on the bed where the guests had deposited
their wraps lay an array of millinery which drew her irresistibly.

It was a huge four-poster bed which one could mount only by the aid of a
set of bedside steps, and so high that the valance, draped around it like
a skirt, would have reached from her neck to her heels had it been draped
on her. It was a chintz valance with birds of paradise patterned on its
pink back-ground, and there was pink silk quilled into the quaint tester
overhead, reminding her of old Jeremy's favorite quill dahlias.

Usually when she went into this room which was seldom opened, she mounted
the steps to gaze up at that fascinating pink loveliness. Also she walked
around the valance, counting its birds of paradise. She did not do so
to-day. She knew from many previous countings that there were exactly
eighty-seven and a half of those birds. The joining seam cut off all but
the magnificent tail of what would have been the eighty-eighth.

Mounting the steps she leaned over, careful not to touch the crocheted
counterpane, which Tippy always treated as if it were something sacred,
and looked at the hats spread out upon it. Then she laid daring fingers
on Cousin Mehitable's bonnet. It was a temptation to know what she would
look like if she should grow up to be a widow and have to wear an
imposing head-gear like that with a white ruche in front and a long black
veil floating down behind. The next instant she was tying the strings
under her chin.