“Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of that.” N. B--She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours. “Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace,” said Lucy, soothingly. “Leave all to me.” “No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it on.” It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken. Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and opened Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with Lucy's aid, and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a child with a new toy. Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs. Bazalgette looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the ghostly robe which had caused her such a fright. “Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!” cried Lucy. “Well, does not every lady wear lace on her nightgown?” was the tranquil reply. “What is that on yours, pray?” “A little misery of Valenciennes an inch broad; but this is Mechlin--superb! delicious! Well, aunt, you are a sincere votary of the graces; you put on fine things because they are fine things, not with the hollow motive of dazzling society; you wear Mechlin, not for _eclat,_ but for Mechlin. Alas! how few, like you, pursue quite the same course in the dark that they do in the world's eye.” “Don't moralize, dear; unhook me!” After breakfast Mrs. Bazalgette asked Lucy how long she could give her to choose which of the two gowns to take, after all. “Till eight o'clock.” Mrs. Bazalgette breathed again. She had thought herself committed to No. 2, and No. 1 was beginning to look lovely in consequence. At eight, the choice being offered her with impenetrable nonchalance by Lucy, she took Lucy's without a moment's hesitation, and sailed off gayly to her own room to put it on, in which progress the ample peach-colored silk held out in both hands showed like Cleopatra's foresail, and seemed to draw the dame along. Lucy, too, was happy--demurely; for in all this business the female novice, “la ruse sans le savoir,” had outwitted the veteran. Lucy had measured her whole aunt. So she made dress A for her, but told her she was to have dress B. This at once gave her desires a perverse bent toward her own property, the last direction they could have been warped into by any other means; and so she was deluded to her good, and fitted to a hair, soul and body. Going to the ball, one cloud darkened for an instant the matron's mind. “I am so afraid they will see it only cost nine pounds.” “Enfant!” replied Lucy, “aetat. 20.” At the ball Mr. Hardie and Lucy danced together, and were the most admired couple.