"One girl must _not_ do without," replied my mother. "Come with me, Rosamund. Rose, did I ever show you my wedding-dress?" My mother laughed gaily; her eyes were bright. "I did not know your wedding-dress was in existence, mother," I said. "Yes, it is, and well preserved," she replied. "Come up-stairs with me, and you shall see it." I followed my mother into her bedroom. She unlocked a great square wooden trunk, which stood in one of the windows, and laying aside many folds of tissue paper, took from the depths of the trunk a brocaded silk dress of heavy make and rich texture. She laid the dress on the bed, and looked at me with pink spots on each of her cheeks. "There!" she said; "there! Geoffrey gave me the dress, and he saw me in it. You may suppose that Geoffrey knew how to choose good things. You could not buy silk like that now. Geoffrey pinned a rosebud just here. Do you notice the tiny, yellow stain? And then he kissed me on my forehead. We were good friends that day, although Geoffrey, dear Geoffrey, had a strange look in his eyes. I remembered the look afterwards; but we were good friends, very great and affectionate friends. I never saw him again--never. Well, Rosamund, what do you think of your mother's wedding-dress?" I was examining it all over. It was quaint in make, and the silk had the faint yellow tinge which years of lying by always produces. The sleeves were high and puffed. There was a ruffle of very soft and exquisite lace round the V-shaped body. The waist was long, with a pointed stomacher, and the skirt below was full and wide. Never was there a dress less like the mode in vogue at the time of which I write. "The dress is out of date, perhaps, but it is very good in itself," said my mother. "It will fit you, Rosamund, for your figure is small and dainty, like mine used to be. Will you wear your mother's wedding-dress, even if it is a little out of the fashion?" "Yes, I will wear it," I said. "Give it to me, and I will take it away with me." "But you must have other things to match," said my mother. "Wait a moment; you must have other things to suit the dress." She rushed again to her trunk; she looked like a girl in her excitement. "These are my wedding--shoes," she said, "and these white silk stockings go with the shoes. This petticoat, with the deep embroidery, will have to be worn under the full skirt of the dress. Oh, Rose, how glad I am now that I did not cut this petticoat up! Rose, I should like to see you dressed for your first dinner-party!" I kissed my mother, gathered up the poor old-world mementoes of lost youth and love, and ran away to my own room. I took with me on my visit a larger trunk than I had at first intended, for my mother's wedding silk must not be crushed or injured. I arrived at the Grays' house about an hour before dinner.