confection from Paris; and as for the puce-coloured silk, which had practically no sleeves at all, it resembled nothing so much as the dress that the Duchess of Wiltshire had worn at the last drawing-room in July. It was even more complete than that which so voluptuously figured in the full-page illustration, for Cathie's gown had a Watteau sacque behind, and insertions of lace, rather like wedges, at the bottom of the skirt. It was comparatively unused, too. If she had been taking it abroad, she might easily have been charged duty on it, for she had only worn it on great occasions, such as the Mayoral banquet or dinner at the Bishop's three or four times every year for the last five years. Elizabeth had occasionally made pungent remarks about it, but Catherine felt now that her daring in buying the puce silk originally was triumphantly vindicated now that she was going to stay in the house of an Earl with a shooting-party. How few years had passed since Lucia had come to them—orphaned, forlorn, nearly penniless, and now it was necessary for Aunt Catherine to look out her very smartest clothes when she was going to visit Lucia! The puce silk had lived through all this period, and today its shining folds, smelling but faintly of camphor, made a brave show. It warmed Cathie's heart that the puce silk was coming out for Lucia, and it had warmed her heart to receive that welcoming telegram. For it was to no quiet week-end that she was being asked; she was asked for the whole of a week, in which the first shooting-party of the year was to assemble. Cathie was not of snobbish nature, nor anything resembling it. But it pleased her quite enormously to be so cordially asked to what Ladies' Dress would call a smart party. Chiefly it pleased her because Lucia had not altered, had remained as affectionate and considerate as she had always been.
Aunt Cathie turned from the consideration of dress and from consideration of sentiment to another important affair. But she was equally free from anxiety there also. After Elizabeth's splendid offer of last night, she need take no thought for jewellery. There were the amethysts, necklace, bracelets, and brooch, firmly set in pure gold. There were the three rows of Roman pearls, very large and lustrous, and of a magnificence indistinguishable from the authentic article. Indeed, if they were distinguishable at all, they were distinguishable the other way round, so to speak, as the little clasp of real pearls which fastened them were less remarkable, since they were small and rather stale-looking. But even they were but the frame of a superb garnet. There were
