Not feeling very well to-day, she lay in an old wrapper atop the sway-backed bed. Mrs. Flower sat, for company, by the outlooking window, dutifully stitching at a frilly "waist" which Angela had begun, but not finished. But her mother was a beautiful seamstress and really enjoyed an occasional task. "Besides," said Angela, listlessly making a dimple in her pretty cheek with the end of a bone-handled button-hook, "I think Mr. Tilletts will call. He specially asked to--only a little while ago." Mrs. Flower, after a speaking silence, observed: "Donald Manford never sent you the post-card from Wyoming." "Well--all the time in the world hasn't passed yet, mother!" "Your Cousin Ellie Finchman says he is deeply interested in this Miss Carson. She hears he has made her an offer." "How could Mrs. Finchman possibly know that, mother? Besides, _I_ don't care! I like Mr. _Tilletts_ better than Mr. Manford!" Coming to bloom in the age of Chivalry, Angela's mother had enjoyed a great deal of "attention" before she decided to bestow herself upon the worthy Doctor. Hence it was constitutional with her to take a belittling position toward less successful young women, including even her own daughter. Equally natural was it for Angela, with no such opportunities as her mother had had, to hold fast to what successes she had, and even, it may be, for memory to magnify them somewhat. And yet, in the freemasonry of women, she never resented her mother's coolly judicial summaries, and in this case, frankly felt the maternal slap to be justified. Really, Mr. Manford had never paid her any direct attentions, which perhaps had something or other to do with her admiring him so little as yet. On this day, the lonely young girl's spirits seemed to touch their nadir. How _could_ anything pleasant happen? There was no imaginable way. "Oh, mother!" she exclaimed, with an exasperation rare to her. "Why, _why_, couldn't you and father give us _one_ relation that would help us? Did you ever _hear_ of any poor people before that didn't have a _single_ rich relation?" Then she cried out: "Oh, _please_ don't mention Mrs. Ashburton!" It was surely the most natural, reasonable, and human complaint in the world. In family talk, it had an established standing, too, having first been formulated far back at Hunter's Run. But now it was as if Angela had flung her challenge in the teeth of fate once oftener than fate could stand. On the very next day, in brief, the fairy godmother came rolling up to the door.