"Don't I look s-weet? So slim! I'd no idea I was such a nice shape. I don't know which looks nicest, the frock on me or me in the frock! Aren't I tall? Isn't it graceful when I stand like this, and show the pleats? The hat's a duck! I must say I do look most scrumptiously nice!" "My dear!" Lady Hayes looked both shocked and alarmed. "My dear, how _can_ you? I shall begin to regret my purchases if they encourage a spirit of vanity. I was always taught to allow others to praise me and to keep silent myself." "But you _thought_ all the time, Aunt Maria, you couldn't help thinking, and it's worse to bottle it up. I'm always quite candid on the subject of my appearance," returned Darsie calmly. "On principle! Why should you speak the truth on every other subject, and humbug about that? When I've a plain fit I know it, and grovel accordingly, and when I'm nice I'm as pleased as Punch. I _am_ nice to-day, thanks to you and Mason, and if other people admire me, why shouldn't I admire myself? I _like_ to admire myself! It's like the cocoa advertisements, `grateful and comforting.' Honest Ingin, Aunt Maria! Didn't _you_ admire yourself when you saw yourself in the glass _in_ that ducky grey bonnet?" Evidently the question hit home, for Lady Hayes made a swift change of front. "My dear, my dear, moderate your language! Your expressions are unsuitable for a young gentlewoman. You are growing up. Try, I beg, to cultivate a more ladylike demeanour!" Darsie made a little face at the charming reflection in the glass, the which Lady Hayes wisely affected not to see, and presently aunt and niece were seated side by side in the big old barouche, forming one of a concourse of vehicles which were converging together out of every cross road, and turning in a seemingly endless string in the direction of the Hall. Shut carriages, open carriages, motors of different sizes and makes, dog-carts, pony carriages, governess carts--on they came, one after another, stirring up the dust of the road till the air seemed full of a powdery mist, through which unhappy pedestrians ploughed along in the shadow of the hedgerows, their skirts held high in white-gloved hands. Darsie thought it inhuman of her aunt not to fill the carriage to overflowing with these unfortunates, but she made no attempt to do so, but sat up stiff and straight in her seat, a typical old lady of the olden times, in her large bonnet, grey satin gown, and richly embroidered China crape shawl. "If you're not proud of yourself, I'm proud of you!" the girl declared, smoothing the satin folds with an approving hand. "You look just what you are, a dear old fairy godmother who pretends to be proud and fierce, and is really a lump of kindness and generosity. All the other old ladies look dowds beside you."