"Very well then," concluded Selina. "Or--stay: would white look better under it, after all? I have ever so many white glacé slips." Madame's opinion was that no colour, ever seen in the earth or in the air, could or would look as well as the peach. Milady Grey could not wear peach; she was too dark. "Yes, I'll decide upon the peach blossom," concluded Selina. "But that's not a good silk, is it?" "Si. Mais si. C'est de la soie cuite." "And that is all, I think, for today." "What will Madame Dalreemp wear in her hair with this, tomorrow night?" "Ah! that's well thought of. It must be either white or peach." "Or mixed. Cherchez la boîte, numero deux," quietly added madame to an attendant. Box, number two, was brought. And madame disentangled from its contents of flowers a beautiful wreath of peach-blossom and white, with crystallized leaves. "They came in only today," she said. Which was true. "The very thing," cried Selina, in admiration. "Send that with the bonnet and sleeves today." "Madame ought to wear amethysts with this toilette," suggested Madame Damereau. "Amethysts! I have none." "It is a great pity, that. They would look superbe." "I was admiring a set of amethysts the other day," thought Selina, as she went down to her carriage. "I wish I could have them. I wonder whether they were very out-of-the-way in point of cost? I'll drive there and ascertain. I have had a good many little things there that Oscar does not know of." She entered her carriage, ordering it to the jeweller's; and with her pretty face reposing amidst its lace and its flowers, and her point-lace parasol shading it, Mrs. Dalrymple, satisfied and happy, bowed right and left to the numerous admiring faces that met and bowed to her. That same evening, Madame Damereau, having dined well and taken her coffee, proceeded to her usual business with her cashier, Mrs. Cooper. A reduced gentlewoman, who had tried the position of governess till she was heart-sick, and thankfully left it for her present situation, where she had less to do and a liberal salary. Miss Atkinson and Miss Wells, the two show-room assistants, came in. It was necessary to give Mrs. Cooper a summary of the day's sale, that she might enter the articles. They arrived, in due course, at the account of Mrs. Dalrymple. "Dress of Point d'Angleterre," cried Madame Damereau. "One hundred guineas." "Which dress is it she has bought?" inquired Mrs. Cooper, looking up from her writing. She had learnt to take an interest in the sales and customers. "The one that the baroness ordered for her daughter, and would not have when it came," explained madame. "I then sent it to the Countess of Ac-corn, who was inquiring about a lace robe yesterday morning: but it seems she did not keep it. She never knows her own mind two hours together, that Milady Ac-corn." "It is a very nice dress," remarked Mrs. Cooper. "It is a beauty," added Miss Atkinson. "And Lady Acorn need not have cried it down."