“This is a night-dress, Miss Beth,” said Anna Mary glancing with understanding at Beth’s plain little white underwaist, and red and gray striped flannel petticoat. Beth caught the look and took the night-dress without another word. When she had put it on and had tied its ribbons and settled the lace around her tanned little hands she knelt beside the wonderful willow bed, and buried her face in the silken down comforter which had been revealed when Anna Mary folded the violet-embroidered counterpane. Beth still said “Now I lay me,” like the simple little girl that she was, but it is doubtful if she could get her mind on her prayers with the silken night-dress caressing the bare soles of her feet, and when she was about to lay her down to sleep in such a bedstead. “Oh, Anna Mary, it can’t be true!” she sighed rapturously as a faint suggestion of a delicate odor met her as her head sank into the pillow and Anna Mary returned to be sure that she wanted nothing more. “I couldn’t want anything more, Anna Mary, because there isn’t anything more. And there’s no use going to sleep to dream of fairy-land, the way I did at home, for I see more fairy-land with my eyes open than I can dream. I’m perfectly happy, but I don’t think I can sleep, Anna Mary; it’s all so wakeful-wonderful!” “Try, Miss Beth,” urged Anna Mary. “There’s so much for you to enjoy you want to get up bright and rested. Will I turn off all the lights, or leave some for you?” “Maybe you’d better make it dark, Anna Mary, please, though it does seem a shame to waste such a room in black darkness. Good-night, and thank you very much,” said Beth pressing her hot cheek into the cool linen covered pillow and watching the turning of the switch that shut from her vision the beauties amid which she lay. The light from Fifth Avenue gradually brought out some of the furnishings of the room in a gray dimness. The padded fall of the horses’ feet on the asphalt road below kept the little girl awake for a while, but the weariness of healthy childhood conquered at last, and Beth slept sound through the night and late into the morning. It was Anna Mary who came to call her. Beth sat up, shocked to see by the little clock on the bookcase that it was nearly nine o’clock. “Anna Mary!” she cried springing out of bed. “What time do you have breakfast?” “Your cousins have theirs at eight, Miss Beth; your aunt wishes them to be at their lessons with their governess by nine. Sometimes your aunt does not breakfast with them, but most times she does,” said Anna Mary. “Your uncle went away early in his motor car, so this mornin’ your aunt breakfasted in her room. It doesn’t matter at all, and it’s lucky you slept so well. Your cousins do be crazy to see you, but it’s too late for this mornin’. Your aunt sent me to fetch you to her sittin’-room when you’ve dressed and breakfasted. She’s going to take you shoppin’.” “Oh, help me hurry, please, Anna Mary, if you’ve time,” pleaded Beth.