'You are the only man I ever knew that could sit silent through a whole meal. By to-morrow Miss Foster will have added that experience to her collection. Well--I shall be prepared with my consolations--there's the carriage--and the bell!' They fled indoors, escaping through the side entrances of the salon, before the visitor could be shown in. * * * * * 'Must I change my dress?' The voice that asked the question trembled with agitation and fatigue. But the girl who owned the voice stood up stiffly, looking at Miss Manisty with a frowning, almost a threatening shyness. 'Well, my dear,' said Miss Manisty, hesitating. 'Are you not rather dusty? We can easily keep dinner a quarter of an hour.' She looked at the grey alpaca dress before her, in some perplexity. 'Oh, very well'--said the girl hurriedly.--'Of course I'll change. Only'--and the voice fluttered again evidently against her will--'I'm afraid I haven't anything very nice. I must get something in Rome. Mrs. Lewinson advised me. This is my afternoon dress,--I've been wearing it in Florence. But of course--I'll put on my other.--Oh! please don't send for a maid. I'd rather unpack for myself--so much rather!' The speaker flushed crimson, as she saw Miss Manisty's maid enter the room in answer to her mistress's ring. She stood up indeed with her hand grasping her trunk, as though defending it from an assailant. The maid looked at her mistress. 'Miss Foster will ring, Benson, if she wants you'--said Miss Manisty; and the black-robed elderly maid, breathing decorous fashion and the ways of 'the best people,' turned, gave a swift look at Miss Foster, and left the room. 'Are you sure, my dear? You know she would make you tidy in no time. She arranges hair beautifully.' 'Oh quite--quite sure!--thank you,' said the girl with the same eagerness. 'I will be ready,--right away.' Then, left to herself, Miss Foster hastily opened her box and took out some of its contents. She unfolded one dress after another,--and looked at them unhappily. 'Perhaps I ought to have let cousin Izza give me those things in Boston,' she thought. 'Perhaps I was too proud. And that money of Uncle Ben's--it might have been kinder--after all he wanted me to look nice'-- She sat ruefully on the ground beside her trunk, turning the things over, in a misery of annoyance and mortification; half inclined to laugh too as she remembered the seamstress in the small New England country town, who had helped her own hands to manufacture them. 'Well, Miss Lucy, your uncle's done real handsome by you. I guess he's set you up, and no mistake. There's no meanness about him!' And she saw the dress on the stand--the little blonde withered head of the dressmaker--the spectacled eyes dwelling proudly on the masterpiece before them.-- Alack! There rose up the memory of little Mrs. Lewinson at Florence--of her gently pursed lips--of the looks that were meant to be kind, and were in reality so critical.