Aunt Matilda muttered something about "beggars being choosers," and Rosemary pushed her plate away wearily. She had not tasted her breakfast. Grandmother arose and noisily blew out the lamp, regardless of the fact that Matilda had not finished eating. "Now, Rosemary," she said, briskly, "after you get the dishes done and the kitchen cleaned up, I want you should go to the post-office and get my paper. When you come back, you can do the sweepin' and dustin' down here and I can set in the kitchen while you're doin' it. Then you can make the beds and do the up-stairs work and then go to the store. By the time you're ready to go to the store, I'll have decided what you're to get." "And," continued Aunt Matilda, pushing back her chair, "this afternoon you can help me cut out some underclothes and get 'em basted together." She never attempted any sort of housework, being pathetically vain of her one beauty--her small, white hands. Even the family sewing she did under protest. "Is the alpaca all gone?" asked Grandmother. "Yes," Matilda replied. "I used the last of it patchin' Rosemary's dress under the arms. It beats all how hard she is on her clothes." [Sidenote: A Question of Colour] "I'll have to order more," sighed the old lady. "I suppose the price has gone up again." Rosemary's breath came and went quickly; her heart fluttered with a sudden wildness. "Grandmother," she pleaded, hesitatingly, "oh, Aunt Matilda--just for this once, couldn't I have grey alpaca instead of brown? I hate brown so!" Both women stared at her as though she had all at once gone mad. The silence became intense, painful. "I mean," faltered the girl, "if it's the same price. I wouldn't ask you to pay any more. Perhaps grey might be cheaper now--even cheaper than brown!" "I was married in brown alpaca," said Grandmother. She used the tone in which royalty may possibly allude to coronation. "I was wearing brown alpaca," observed Aunt Matilda, "the night the minister came to call." "Made just like this," they said, together. "If brown alpaca's good enough for weddin's and ministers, I reckon it'll do for orphans that don't half earn their keep," resumed Grandmother, with her keen eyes fixed upon Rosemary. "What put the notion into your head?" queried Aunt Matilda, with the air of one athirst for knowledge. [Sidenote: A Surprise Party] "Why--nothing," the girl stammered, "except that--when I was looking at mother's things the other day, up in the attic, I found some pink ribbon, and I thought it would be pretty with grey, and if I had a grey dress----" The other two exchanged glances. "Ain't it wonderful," asked Matilda of her mother, "how blood will tell?"