In spite of their weariness the sisters did not get to bed very early that night. They could not decide whether the top drawer of the spare-room bureau or the long box in the parlor closet would be the safer refuge for their treasure. And when the matter was decided, and the sisters had gone to bed, Miss Priscilla, after a prolonged discussion, got up and moved the silk to the other place, only to slip out of bed later, after a much longer discussion, and put it back. Even then they did not sleep well: for the first time in their lives they knew the responsibility that comes with possessions; they feared--burglars. With the morning sun, however, came peace and joy. No moth nor rust nor thief had appeared, and the lustrous lengths of shimmering silk defied the sun itself to find spot or blemish. "It looks even nicer than it did in the store, don't it?" murmured Miss Priscilla, ecstatically, as she hovered over the glistening folds that she had draped in riotous luxury across the chair-back. "Yes,--oh, yes!" breathed Miss Amelia. "Now let's hurry with the work so we can go right down to Mis' Snow's." _"Black_ silk-_black_ silk!" ticked the clock to Miss Priscilla washing dishes at the kitchen sink. "You've got a black _silk_! You've _got_ a black _silk!"_ chirped the robins to Miss Amelia looking for weeds in the garden. At ten o'clock the sisters left the house, each with a long brown parcel carefully borne in her arms. At noon--at noon the sisters were back again, still carrying the parcels. Their faces wore a look of mingled triumph and defeat. "As if we _could_ have that beautiful silk put into a _plaited_ skirt!" quavered Miss Priscilla, thrusting the key into the lock with a trembling hand. "Why, Amelia, plaits always crack!" "Of course they do!" almost sobbed Miss Amelia. "Only think of it, Priscilla, our silk--_cracked_!" "We will just wait until the styles change," said Miss Priscilla, with an air of finality. "They won't always wear plaits!" "And we know all the time that we've really got the dresses, only they aren't made up!" finished Miss Amelia, in tearful triumph. So the silk was laid away in two big rolls, and for another year the old black alpaca gowns trailed across the town's thresholds and down the aisle of the church on Sunday. Their owners no longer sought shadowed corners and sunless rooms, however; it was not as if one were _obliged_ to wear sponged and darned alpacas! Plaits were "out" next year, and the Heath sisters were among the first to read it in the fashion notes. Once more on a bright spring morning Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia left the house tenderly bearing in their arms the brown-paper parcels--and once more they returned, the brown parcels still in their arms. There was an air of indecision about them this time. "You see, Amelia, it seemed foolish--almost wicked," Miss Priscilla was saying, "to put such a lot of that expensive silk into just sleeves." "I know it," sighed her sister.