She was smiling complacently just now at this blond-haired reflection in the mirror as she leaned on the mantel. "No, I don't believe I shall take off my mourning for another year," she said, half aloud, turning her head a little to one side to adjust a bow in her hair, "at least, not quite. Then perhaps I shall have a season of grays--a velvet hat with long feathers and a cut steel ornament. Soft shades are certainly becoming to me--and I dislike to see people rush into colors immediately, as if they had no feeling at all." The widowed lady sighed softly, as was her wont when referring to her bereavement. It seemed to go well with lavender. "Your love for purple, Maria," observed Mrs. Pennybacker, ignoring the sentiment of these remarks and grasping promptly their salient point, as was her wont, "is an inherited one. Your mother used to feel when she had on a new purple calico or lawn that she was about as fine as they made them. And if she could get hold of a purple ribbon--" "Aunt Mary," said Mrs. Van Dorn, in polite exasperation, "if you have to refer to those old days and what you wore, why don't you speak of muslins and organdies instead of calicoes and such things?" "Because they were not muslins and organdies. They were calicoes and lawns--ten-cent lawns at that, and mighty glad we were to get them." "Well!" ejaculated Mrs. Van Dorn, in marked disgust, "I can't see any good in constantly advertising the fact, any more than I can see why you should say, as you did to Congressman Andrews last night, that you were from 'Possum Kingdom.'" Mrs. Pennybacker's lips twitched in a reminiscent smile. "I did that to be explicit. He wanted to know what part of Callaway I was from and I had to tell him. I couldn't dodge. I was born in 'Possum Kingdom.' I thought he seemed to enjoy hearing about it." "Enjoy it? Yes--at your expense." "I didn't mind, Maria. It started us on a very mirthful talk. You ought to be thankful that I didn't tell him you were born there too." "I don't want you ever to tell that to anybody. I am not a Missourian. I am a Washingtonian." "Maria," said Mrs. Pennybacker, firmly, "you are a Missourian. It is too late now for you to select a birthplace. If you ever get into Statuary Hall (which I somewhat doubt) you will have to be written down from 'Possum Kingdom,' for there you were born." Mrs. Van Dorn contented herself with a sniff. "Anyway," continued Mrs. Pennybacker, argumentatively, "I don't see why one wouldn't rather have been born in a great sovereign state like Missouri--an empire in itself--than in a little two by four asparagus bed set like a patch on top of two other states, and not set straight at that. I never had any opinion of people who are ashamed of their native state, even if that was a state of poverty, and yours was a State of affluence." "If you call calico and ten-cent lawn affluence--" began Mrs. Van Dorn.