“You will have to put on the black gown,” announced Miss Usher. “I’ll dress you myself, and we will dine at the table d’hôte.” “Oh, no, no,” protested the other, in an agonised voice, “I dare not.” “Oh, but yes; you must begin some time, and the sooner the better, and learn how girls of your own rank look and behave themselves. Don’t you wish your father to be pleased when he returns? Don’t you wish him to be proud of you?” “Is it proud of _me_! You’re making fun,” she scoffed. “Not at all. I want you to do me credit. And you will follow me into the room, and copy what I do as regards knife and fork and wine-glasses.” “I expect I’ll do something awfully bad--upset the things, I’ll be so nervous, and have all the servants laughing at me.” “Well-trained servants never laugh; and please remember that you are no longer, as you seem to think, on equal terms with them. They don’t understand familiarity; they have their own dignity. There is a story of a gentleman who had socialistic ideas--all men on an equality sort of thing; he insisted on shaking hands with his butler. The butler did not like it; he gave warning.” “Ah! I suppose that was why the tall chambermaid stared at me, when I said how nicely her fringe was done!” “Of course; she must have been horrified! Now go and do your hair, and when you are ready I’ll come and help you into your new gown.” “The girl has a taste for dress,” reflected Miss Usher, as she arranged her own thick grey locks. “I suppose it comes from her French relations. It was really marvellous, the eye she had for a suitable purchase, considering that everything is as new to her as if she came from another planet. She is wonderful, poor child!” Before Miss Usher had completed her toilette there was a timid knock at the door, and she gave a faint scream, as her charge trailed into the room. What a transformation! The well-cut bodice set off a willowy and graceful figure; the sweeping skirt lent dignity; the black gown was entrancingly becoming to the soft white skin and ruddy hair of Lady Joseline. Yes, she was Lady Joseline, indeed--an aristocrat every inch, from her neat black velvet shoe, to the crown of her thick hair. Mary Foley, in a clumsy serge, had quitted the apartment half an hour ago for ever, and this graceful young personage, had taken her place! “Will I do?” she eagerly inquired, in her soft southern brogue. Yes; outwardly she would do extremely well. She seemed to possess the natural art--a valuable one--the art of knowing how to put on her clothes. “Yes”--turning round and then standing up--“nothing could be better, Lady Joseline.” “Oh, for goodness sake----” Miss Usher made a gesture of interruption, and continued. “For the future you must remember that such is your _real_ name. You have now taken upon you your new character. May you adorn it, be happy, and make others happy, my dear!” And as she spoke, she went over to the girl, and kissed her on both cheeks, French fashion.