For the picture she saw was, without a doubt in the world, what she proclaimed it, a moment later, ravishingly pretty: the girlish little pink and white room with all its dainty settings for a background, lit by the dozen candles in their sconces and half as many slender silver candlesticks, and, seated before the twinkling mirror, the beautiful Miss Carewe, in her gown of lace and flounces that were crisp, yet soft, her rope of pearls, her white sandals, and all the glory of her youth.

She had wound a wreath of white roses into her hair, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes warm and glowing, yet inscrutable in their long gaze into the mirror.
"Oh," said Mrs.Tanberry, "you make me want to be a man! I'd pick you up and run to the North Pole, where no one could ever follow.

And I can tell you that it hurts not to throw my arms round you and kiss you; but you're so exquisite I don't want to touch you!" In answer, Miss Betty ran to her and kissed her rapturously on both cheeks.

"Am I--after all ?" she cried.

"Am I?
Is it?
Will the roses do ?" And without heeding her companion's staccatoes of approval she went rapidly to the open bureau, snatched up a double handful of ribbons and furbelows, and dashed out of the room in search of the disgraced Mamie.
She found her seated on the kitchen door-step in lonely lamentation, and showered the gifts into her lap, while the vain one shrieked inimitably with pride in the sudden vision of her mistress and joy of the incredible possessions.
"Here, and here, and here!" said Miss Betty in a breath, hurling the fineries upon her.