Katrine stared blankly at the entrance of the apparition, the inevitable admiration largely tinged with reproach. How ridiculous, and unsuitable, and altogether Grizelish to choose such a dress for a quiet home evening! It was probably the first that had come to her hand, and she had put it on without a thought. When there was a dinner party, and the most important people in the neighbourhood were assembled to meet her, she would just as likely as not appear in a simple muslin. Katrine had lived through such experiences before, and had suffered much aggravation thereby. She stared with exaggerated surprise, whereupon Grizel gurgled, quick to appreciate the criticism. "Yes, ma'am. My _very_ best! Ain't I a pr-etty ittle did?" "It would be very suitable for a Court ball. What possessed you to put it on to-night?" "I felt like it,--in a golden mood! I always dress to suit my moods. Besides it's quite new, and the dear thing wanted its turn. It is my Sheba dress, but you aren't nearly so appreciative as Aunt Griselda. _She_ bowed down before me." "I'm not going to bow down, but it's a marvellous frock!" Katrine felt a depressing consciousness of the shabby black net which had done duty for home wear for several winters in succession, and woman-like reflected with a pang that the price of that golden sheaf would probably equal that of her entire summer outfit. How would it feel to own a fairy purse, and bid Paquin do his best? For a moment she was rent with envy, then curiosity claimed its day. She crossed the room, and peered with awe and admiration at the elaborateness of the dress, the chiffon skirts poised one upon another, which softened the glare of the satin slip, the exquisite design of the embroidery, the rare and varied beads with which it was intermingled. "Grizel--what gorgeousness! Every bead is a treasure. It must have taken months to work. And on a piece of perishable net. I have _read_ about such things, but I've never seen them... Mrs Brewston would read you a lesson on wanton extravagance--" "_Decadence_," interrupted Grizel firmly. "You must _always_ call it decadence. And I should perfectly agree. But the poor lambs had embroidered it, so some one _had_ to pay, and Aunt Griselda might as well do it as any one else. I wouldn't have dreamed of _giving_ the order!" "Humbug! Quibbler!--Is there any possible way of getting into it, or do you wriggle in at the neck? There's nothing of you, my dear, but you are modelled so considerately--plump in the right places! ... The sleeves are a trifle attenuated, don't you think?"