As Mrs. Blumpitty did not instantly corroborate this result of the fifteen minutes in the red satin corner, “You promised me that,” said Mrs. Mar, with a suddenness that sounded less like maternal solicitude than truculence, “and _I_ promised you shouldn’t be a loser by it.” “Yes—oh, yes, ma’am, I’ll do all I said.” Merely looking at Mrs. Mar seemed to galvanize Mrs. Blumpitty into heroic mastery of her shyness. She clasped her thin hands in their gray cotton gloves tightly together, and felt herself called upon instantly to prove her present knowledge and prospective usefulness. “H-have y’ got a boy’s rubber coat, comin’ to the knees?” she inquired of the younger lady. “No,” said Hildegarde. “Ought I—?” “Yes, you must have that, mustn’t she?” “Ya-as.” “And waterproof boots?” “I’ve got them.” “With asbestos soles?” “Oh, I don’t know.” “They’re the best.” “Get them,” commanded Mrs. Mar. “And one thing you can’t do without is a blue denim prospecting dress.” “I think I have something that would do, though I don’t expect to go—” “Has your dress got knickerbockers and skirt to the knee?” She saw Miss Mar and her mother exchange glances, but she felt instinctively the elder lady would see the reasonableness of the provision. “No,” said the young lady, “my skirts are ankle-length.” “Oughtn’t to be a hairbreadth below the knee,” said Mrs. Blumpitty, with more firmness than she had yet shown. “No skirt at all is best,” observed Mr. Blumpitty dryly. “What!” said Harry Mar, whom every one had forgotten. “Jest full knickerbockers,” said Blumpitty, without so much as looking at the objector. “Oh, that won’t be necessary for me,” said Miss Mar. “’Twill, if you want to go prospectin’.” Valiantly Blumpitty supported his wife’s view. “You can’t wear a skirt on the trail.” “I don’t think I shall go on the trail,” said the pusillanimous Hildegarde, “unless my father—” “Better be ready,” said Blumpitty. “What else do you advise?” said Mrs. Mar, glancing at the clock. “She ought to have a sou’wester, don’t you think?” says Mrs. Blumpitty to Mr. Blumpitty. “Ya—as, and a tarpaulin to lie on in the swamp.” “Well,” said Mrs. Mar, “nobody can accuse you two of over-coloring the delights of life up there.” “It’s a splendid place, Alaska is, if you go with the right things,” said Mrs. Blumpitty. “And if you come away with the right things,” supplemented Mrs. Mar. “Oh, she must bring back a claim, mustn’t she?” Mrs. Blumpitty appealed to her husband. Harry and his mother exchanged looks. “Well, never mind about that,” said Mrs. Mar. “But if you see after my daughter and do what you said, you won’t be losers by it.” “No, indeed,” said Harry, with emphasis. “Mrs. Blumpitty,” quoted Mrs. Mar, “Mrs. Blumpitty says she’ll see that Hildegarde is properly cooked for up there, and she’ll even get her washing done.” “Oh, yes, I can do that myself. I’m used to it.” “You don’t look very strong,” said Hildegarde.