"Oh, dear, no. Meg Van Dam could face Mausers, but a Red Cross bazaar was
as near as she got to the war. We call her the General because--oh, you'll
find out. Meg is Mrs. Robert Van Dam."

"Oh, I think I've seen that name in the papers. Aren't they grand people?"

"Why, yes; rather; we don't know the Van Dams; Meg's only just married.
You might have read about her mother-in-law, Mrs. Marmaduke Van Dam, or
her aunt-in-law, Mrs. Henry Van Dam, or Mrs. Henry's daughters; the
family's a tribe. But Meg, why, we went to school with Meg; she's just the
General."

My dress came home to-night--white and dainty. Ah, at last I've something
to wear that's not "good" and "plain" and "durable"! But there was an
outcry, as there has been at every fitting, because I won't wear stays.
Eccentric, they call me; as if Nature and beauty were abnormal!

When I was arrayed in it, Aunt and Ethel led me to the library for Uncle's
inspection.

"Is to-morrow the day set to exhibit to Helen other aspects of New York
than the scholastic?" he asked, looking up from his paper. "The first
appearances of a young girl in modern society are said to be comparable
with a 'Looking Over by the Pack,' as described by Mr. Kipling. May Mrs.
Baloo and Mrs. Bagheera and Mrs. Shere Khan have good hunting to-night,
and be kind to-morrow to our womanling."

"Why, Bake, you know just as well as I do there aren't any such people
coming. I believe it's just one of your jokes," sputtered Aunt. "Nelly,
dear, turn slowly round."