Just then Mrs.
Breynton came in, with many apologies for her delay, met Gypsy kindly enough, and sent her up-stairs to take off her things.
"Who trimmed your hat ?" asked Joy, suddenly.
"Miss Jones.

She's our milliner." "Oh," said Joy, "mine is a pheasant.

Nobody thinks of wearing velvet now--most everybody has a pheasant." "I shouldn't like to wear just what everybody else did," Gypsy could not help saying.

She hung the turban up in the closet, with a little uncomfortable feeling.

It was a fine drab straw, trimmed and bound with velvet a shade darker.