Miss Grace just opened her eyes for the tenth of a second when I entered the room, and I wondered what reflection passed through her mind, but she gave utterance to none. She invited me to seat myself, and I had the most delicious meal I had ever partaken of in the whole course of my life. Nancy flew in and out, serving us with more and more dainties: puddings, jellies--oh dear, what delicious things jellies are when you have never tasted them before! Then there was fruit--apples which, Miss Donnithorne told me, had grown and ripened in her own garden; and finally we cracked nuts and became excellent friends, sitting close to the fire. Nancy's final entrance had been with coffee on a little tray. Miss Donnithorne poured out a cup for me and a cup for herself. "We'll go out presently," she said. "It's a lovely day for a walk. I shall take you a good way and show you some of the beauties of the place. But what about your boots? Are they strong?" "Oh, pretty well," I replied. "I can lend you some rubbers; but what size are your feet?" I pushed out one of my feet for inspection. "Dear, dear!" said Miss Donnithorne, "they're bigger than mine. Mine are rather small, and yours--you will forgive me, but yours are enormous; they really are. Have you been attended to by a shoemaker?" "Oh, Hannah gets my boots for me," I said. "She always has them made to order, as she says they last twice as long; and she always insists on having them made two sizes too large. She says she can't be troubled by hearing me complain that they are too small." "Dear me, child!" said Miss Donnithorne. "Do you know that you aggravate me more each moment?" "Aggravate you?" I answered. "Yes. You make something plainer and plainer. There! not a word more at present. But before I go upstairs, do tell me, was it Hannah or yourself who chose _that_?" As she spoke she pointed to the red blouse and the brown skirt. She evidently thought of them as a costume, for she did not speak of them in the plural; she spoke of them as "that," and if ever there was condemnation in a kind voice, it was when she uttered that word. "It was father who got them at Wallis's," I said. "I told him when I was coming to you that my clothes were rather shabby, and he bought them--he chose them himself." "Bless him!" said Miss Donnithorne. She looked at me critically for a minute, and then she burst into a perfect shriek of laughter. I felt inclined to be offended. It had never occurred to me that anybody in all the world could laugh at the Professor; but Miss Donnithorne laughed till the tears rolled down her cheeks. "Mercy! Mercy me!" she repeated at intervals. When she had recovered herself she said, "My dear, you mustn't be angry. I respect your father immensely, but his gift does not lie in the clothing of girls. Why, child, that is a woman's skirt. Let me feel the texture." She felt it between her finger and thumb.