"I should like a little time to consider," she said.

"Time to accustom yourself to me, is it not? You can have as long as

you plea-"

"Oh, I can let you know tomorrow," interrupted Alice, officiously.

"Thank you. I will send a note to Mrs. Goff to say that she need

not expect you back until tomorrow."

"But I did not mean--I am not prepared to stay," remonstrated Alice,

feeling that she was being entangled in a snare.

"We shall take a walk after dinner, then, and call at your house,

where you can make your preparations. But I think I can supply you

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with all you will require."

Alice dared make no further objection. "I am afraid," she stammered,

"you will think me horribly rude; but I am so useless, and you are

so sure to be disappointed, that--that--"

"You are not rude, Miss Goff; but I find you very shy. You want to

run away and hide from new faces and new surroundings." Alice, who

was self-possessed and even overbearing in Wiltstoken society, felt

that she was misunderstood, but did not know how to vindicate

herself. Lydia resumed, "I have formed my habits in the course of my

travels, and so live without ceremony. We dine early--at six."

Alice had dined at two, but did not feel bound to confess it.

"Let me show you your room," said Lydia, rising. "This is a curious

drawingroom," she added, glancing around. "I only use it

occasionally to receive visitors." She looked about her again with

some interest, as if the apartment belonged to some one else, and

led the way to a room on the first floor, furnished as a lady's

bed-chamber. "If you dislike this," she said, "or cannot arrange it

to suit you, there are others, of which you can have your choice.

Come to my boudoir when you are ready."

"Where is that?" said Alice, anxiously.

"It is--You had better ring for some one to show you. I will send

you my maid."

Alice, even more afraid of the maid than of the mistress, declined

hastily. "I am accustomed to attend to myself, Miss Carew," with

proud humility.

"You will find it more convenient to call me Lydia," said Miss

Carew. "Otherwise you will be supposed to refer to my grandaunt, a

very old lady." She then left the room.

Alice was fond of thinking that she had a womanly taste and touch in

making a room pretty. She was accustomed to survey with pride her

mother's drawing-room, which she had garnished with cheap

cretonnes, Japanese paper fans, and knick-knacks in ornamental

pottery. She felt now that if she slept once in the bed before her,

she could never be content in her mother's house again. All that she

had read and believed of the beauty of cheap and simple ornament,

and the vulgarity of costliness, recurred to her as a hypocritical

paraphrase of the "sour grapes" of the fox in the fable. She

pictured to herself with a shudder the effect of a sixpenny Chinese

umbrella in that fireplace, a cretonne valance to that bed, or

chintz curtains to those windows. There was in the room a series of

mirrors consisting of a great glass in which she could see herself

at full length, another framed in the carved oaken dressing-table,

and smaller ones of various shapes fixed to jointed arms that turned

every way. To use them for the first time was like having eyes in

the back of the head. She had never seen herself from all points of

view before. As she gazed, she strove not to be ashamed of her

dress; but even her face and figure, which usually afforded her

unqualified delight, seemed robust and middle-class in Miss Carew's

mirrors.