Perhaps the sight of the various articles contained in two of the five trunks had inspired these doubts in the dear old lady's breast: it is certain, at least, that, as she took the best cap up, a faint sigh fluttered upon her lips. "It is very large for a small person," she said. "And I am not at all sure that amber is becoming to me." And just at that moment there came a tap at the door, which she knew was from Octavia. She laid the cap back, in some confusion at being surprised in a moment of weakness. "Come in, my love," she said. Octavia pushed the door open, and came in. She had not dressed yet, and had on her wrapper and slippers, which were both of quilted gray silk, gayly embroidered with carnations. But Miss Belinda had seen both wrapper and slippers before, and had become used to their sumptuousness: what she had not seen was the trifle the girl held in her hand. "See here," she said. "See what I have been making for you!" She looked quite elated, and laughed triumphantly. "I did not know I could do it until I tried," she said. "I had seen some in New York, and I had the lace by me. And I have enough left to make ruffles for your neck and wrists. It's Mechlin." "My dear!" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "My dear!" Octavia laughed again. "Don't you know what it is?" she said. "It isn't like a Slowbridge cap; but it's a cap, nevertheless. They wear them like this in New York, and I think they are ever so much prettier." It was true that it was not like a Slowbridge cap, and was also true that it was prettier. It was a delicate affair of softly quilled lace, adorned here and there with loops of pale satin ribbon. "Let me try it on," said Octavia, advancing; and in a minute she had done so, and turned Miss Bassett about to face herself in the glass. "There!" she said. "Isn't that better than--well, than emulating Lady Theobald?" It was so pretty and so becoming, and Miss Belinda was so touched by the girl's innocent enjoyment, that the tears came into her eyes. "My--my love," she faltered, "it is so beautiful, and so expensive, that--though indeed I don't know how to thank you--I am afraid I should not dare to wear it." "Oh!" answered Octavia, "that's nonsense, you know. I'm sure there's no reason why people shouldn't wear becoming things. Besides, I should be awfully disappointed. I didn't think I could make it, and I'm real proud of it. You don't know how becoming it is!" Miss Belinda looked at her reflection, and faltered. It was becoming. "My love," she protested faintly, "real Mechlin! There is really no such lace in Slowbridge." "All the better," said Octavia cheerfully. "I'm glad to hear that. It isn't one bit too nice for you." To Miss Belinda's astonishment, she drew a step nearer to her, and gave one of the satin loops a queer, caressing little touch, which actually seemed to mean something. And then suddenly the girl stooped, with a little laugh, and gave her aunt a light kiss on her cheek.