And the result was extraordinary.

The day before she had been still a mere fresh-cheeked illustration of those 'moeurs de province' which are to be found all over the world, in Burgundy and Yorkshire no less and no more than in Vermont; to-day she had become what others copy, the best of its kind--the 'fleeting flower' that 'blooms for one day at the summit'-- as the maids would no doubt have expressed themselves, had they been acquainted with the works of Mr.Clough.
And thanks to that pliancy of her race, which Miss Manisty had discovered, although she was shy in these new trappings, she was not awkward.

She was assimilating her new frocks, as she had already assimilated so many other things, during her weeks at the villa--points of manner, of speech, of mental perspective.

Unconsciously she copied Mrs.Burgoyne's movements and voice; she was learning to understand Manisty's paradoxes, and Aunt Pattie's small weaknesses.

She was less raw, evidently; yet not less individual.