“I do mean it, and I'm sure my sensible aunt will consent when she understands that these well I'll call them by an Indian name, and say pajamas are for underwear, and Rose can have as pretty frocks as she likes outside. These two suits of flannel, each in one piece from head to foot, with a skirt or so hung on this easily-fitting waist, will keep the child warm without burdening her with belts, and gathers, and buckles, and bunches round the waist, and leave free the muscles that need plenty of room to work in. She shall never have the back-ache if I can help it, nor the long list of ills you dear women think you cannot escape.” “I don't consider it modest, and I'm sure Rose will be shocked at it,” began Mrs. Clara, but stopped suddenly, as Rose appeared in the doorway, not looking shocked a bit. “Come on, my hygienic model, and let us see you,” said her uncle, with an approving glance, as she walked in, looking so mischievously merry, that it was evident she enjoyed the joke. “Well, I don't see anything remarkable. That is a neat, plain suit; the materials are good, and it's not unbecoming, if you want her to look like a little school-girl; but it has not a particle of style, and no one would ever give it a second glance,” said Mrs. Clara, feeling that her last remark condemned the whole thing. “Exactly what I want,” answered the provoking Doctor, rubbing his hands with a satisfied air. “Rosy looks now like what she is, a modest little girl, who does not want to be stared at. I think she would get a glance of approval, though, from people who like sense and simplicity rather than fuss and feathers. Revolve, my Hebe, and let me refresh my eyes by the sight of you.” There was very little to see, however, only a pretty Gabrielle dress, of a soft warm shade of brown, coming to the tops of a trim pair of boots with low heels. A seal-skin sack, cap, and mittens, with a glimpse of scarlet at the throat, and the pretty curls tied up with a bright velvet of the same colour, completed the external adornment, making her look like a robin redbreast wintry, yet warm. “How do you like it, Rosy?” asked the Doctor, feeling that her opinion was more important to the success of his new idea than that of all the aunts on the hill. “I feel very odd and light, but I'm warm as a toast, and nothing seems to be in my way,” answered Rose, with a skip which displayed shapely gaiters on legs that now might be as free and active as a boy's under the modest skirts of the girl. “You can run away from the mad dogs, and walk off at a smart pace without tumbling on your nose, now, I fancy?” “Yes, uncle! suppose the dog coming, I just hop over a wall so and when I walk of a cold day, I go like this.” Entering fully into the spirit of the thing, Rose swung herself over the high back of the sofa as easily as one of her cousins, and then went down the long hall as if her stout boots were related to the famous seven-leaguers.