If the color does not suit you, I will exchange it for any you may select." She began to smile again, coquettishly untying the string and unwrapping the paper.

Instead of the lovely rose-colored ribbon, out rolled a long pair of coarse blue cotton stockings.
Miss Marigold screamed louder than she had at the thunder.
"It's all a mistake!" I cried; "a ridiculous mistake! I beg your pardon ten thousand times! They are for the Widow Jones.

_Here_ is what I intended for _you_, dear, dear Belle," and I thrust another package into heir hands.
"Fine-cut!" said she, examining the wrapper by the light of the lamp on the piano.

"Do you think I chew, Mr.Flutter ?--or _dip_?
Do you intend to willfully insult me?
Leave the hou----" "Oh, I beg of you, listen! Here it is at last!" I exclaimed in desperation, drawing out the right package at last, and myself displaying to her dazzled view the four yards of glittering ribbon.
"There's not another in Babbletown so handsome.

Wear it for _my sake_, Belle!" "I will," she sighed, after she had secretly rubbed it, and held it to the light to make sure of its quality.