The next day Lord Tony’s only sister, Lady Rachel Jenkins, arrived to call--but not for the first time--upon Miss West. She was an extremely vivacious and agreeable little woman, with dark eyes and flashing teeth. She took Madeline out with her in her own brougham, and--oh, great favour!--introduced her to her pet dressmaker. This august person viewed Miss West’s stone-coloured costume with an air of amused contempt; it was not good style; the cut of the skirt was quite “out,” and she finally wound up by uttering the awful words, “Ready made.” It was not what Madeline liked, or even thought she would like, but what Lady Rachel suggested and Madame Coralie approved, that was selected. “Your father, my dear,” patting the girl’s hand confidentially, “met me on the stairs, and we had a few words together. I’m going to show you what we do in London, and what we wear, and whom we know; and what we don’t wear, and whom we don’t know, my little country mouse!” So the country mouse was endowed with half a dozen fine dresses chosen entirely by Lady Rachel--dresses for morning, afternoon, and evening. “I only order six, my dear,” said her chaperon cheerily, “as the season is getting over, and these will carry you on till August, if you have a good maid. Madame Coralie, we can only give you five days,” rising as she spoke. But Madame Coralie threw up eyes and hands and gesticulated, and volubly declared that it was _absolument impossible_! She had so many gowns for Ascot and the royal garden party. Nevertheless, Lady Rachel was imperious, and carried her point. “The opera mantle is to be lined with pink brocade, and you will line the cloth skirt with shot sulphur-coloured silk; and that body I chose is to be almost drowned in chiffon and silver.” She was to be female bear-leader to this young heiress, and was resolved that her appearance should not disgrace her, and that “the old squatter,” as she called him, should be taken at his word, and made to pay and look pleasant. The succeeding visit was to a milliner’s; the next to a shoe shop, when the same scene was rehearsed. Madeline looked on and said nothing, but made an angry mental note that she would never again go out shopping with this imperious little lady. Why, even the poorest had the privilege of choosing their own clothes! Why should this little black-browed woman, barely up to her shoulder, tyrannize over her thus? Simply because, my dear, unsophisticated Madeline, she has promised to bring you out--to be your social godmother, to introduce you to society, such as your father loveth, and to be friendly. Besides all this, she has already decided in her own mind that “you will do very well,” and are not nearly as rustic as she expected; and she has made up her mind--precisely as she did about your satin dinner-dress--that you are to marry her brother. Oh, happy prospect!