The usual Sunday-morning quietude of the mansion was disturbed somewhat when the family again assembled. An extraordinary event had occurred. Mrs. Baron had sat up late the night before and had made a Dress. In announcing the fact she had pronounced the word in such a manner that the use of the capital letter is fully justified. She displayed the Dress for the admiration of her son and her daughter, and her husband. And finally she generously relinquished it to Flora. “You may give it to her,” she said rather loftily. Bonnie May had not yet appeared. Flora, knocked softly on the guest’s door and without waiting went into the room, displaying the new garment rather conspicuously. “What’s that?” inquired Bonnie May dubiously. “It’s a new dress for you.” “It was never made for me,” affirmed the child with conviction. “Indeed, it was. Mother sat up ever so late last night and made it for you.” “Well, that, of course, was a matter I should have been consulted about.” Bonnie May was now sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to make the toes of one foot come in contact with the floor. Miss Baron sat on a low chair in the middle of the room, the new dress spread across her knees. “But you’re glad, aren’t you?” she asked. “I’m glad in a way. I’m glad that anybody so disagreeable could really try to do you a good turn.” Clearly, each day was a new day, with Bonnie May. “But, dear child, mother won’t seem disagreeable to you when you come to know her. It hurts me to have you speak so of her--truly it does. And I think she must have worked until she was very weary, making the dress for you.” “I appreciate all that,” the guest hastened to explain, genuine compunction in her voice. “But you see, the dress isn’t at all suitable.” “I’m sure you’ll like it much better when you try it on.” “Take my word for it--it won’t do.” Miss Baron felt for the moment as if she could have pounced upon the child and spanked her. But she noticed how one curl fell outside her ear, and how the eyes and voice were profoundly earnest, and how the attitude was eloquent of a kind of repentance before the fact. And so she said: “Won’t you do something for me that will please me better than anything else I can think of--something that will take only a minute?” Bonnie May looked at her meditatively--and then began to laugh quite riotously! “You don’t look the part!” she gurgled in justification. “What part, please?” The question was put somewhat blankly. “You’re talking like a--oh, a Lady Clare, and you haven’t even got your shoes buttoned up!” Miss Baron slowly regarded her shoes; then her glance travelled calmly to Bonnie May; then she rather dully inspected the dress that lay across her knees. Her countenance had become inscrutable. She turned away from the guest’s scrutiny, and after a moment she arose slowly and left the room, carrying the dress with her.