I think we all expected the money to come in one or two days, and it disappointed us to hear that we might have to wait a good while. Young Mr. Johnstone looked in one morning, and he was very agreeable and kind. Mother asked him how soon we should have the money, and he said the lawyers were not bound to pay it in less than a year. "I dare say you won't have to wait quite so long," he said, "but lawyers never hurry themselves. And meantime, it isn't at all impossible that the other party may dispute the will, which might cause further delays." Mother pouted, and was very vexed to think of having to wait. She had so set her heart on having a silk dress directly. But grannie seemed rather pleased than otherwise to hear of delay, for she thought it would give us all time to come to our senses. Another day, to our great amazement, the Johnstones' carriage stopped at our door. It was a very big heavy carriage, and the coachman and footman were big heavy men, with powdered hair, and a great deal of red and yellow about them, and dangling cords and tassels. I always thought the carriage must be a little like the Lord Mayor's coach. Lord Wheatstone's carriage, which sometimes passed our door, didn't make half so fine a show, for it was plain and dark, and the coachman and footman wore plain dark liveries too—only there was a coronet painted on the door, and the horses were such splendid spirited creatures. I liked the dark carriage best, but father called it shabby beside the Johnstones' carriage. Well, as I say, the Johnstones stopped at our gate, and mother was quite in a flurry, and went hurrying into the garden, with her cap all on one side. Mrs. Johnstone did not get out, for she was so extremely stout that moving was a great trouble to her. She was dressed in bright ruby-coloured velvet, and a jacket to match, and she had a sweeping straw-coloured ostrich feather on her bonnet, and yellow kid gloves. It looked grand, but I could not quite admire the red and yellow together, though mother thought them lovely. Mrs. Johnstone kept her talking for some minutes, and seemed to think a deal of our "good fortune," as she called it. Mother's head was quite turned, and she could think and talk of nothing for the rest of the day but velvets and silks and feathers. I suppose that sort of taste is catching. I remember looking at my print dress, and thinking how much I should like a pretty new frock. And just after doing so, I caught grannie's eye, and she said— "Feathers don't make the bird, my dear." "I do like pretty things, grannie," I said. "So do I, Phœbe," she answered. "But nothing ever looks pretty out of its right place." "Would a nice new frock for me be out of its right place?" I asked. "No, not a nice one, perhaps," she said—"if it was the right way of spending the money. But a smart one would. Don't be easy taken in, my girl. If Mrs. Johnstone was a true lady, she wouldn't be driving about in that dress." "Wouldn't she?" I said.