Shortly before eight o’clock that evening, Mrs. Bryan, dressed in her neatest black dress, and wearing her freshest cap, went up to Mrs. Leith’s sitting-room. When she entered, she hardly recognized it, and felt as if she must be in a dream. Wax candles, with pink shades, were set about in groups; the walls and furniture were decorated with rich embroideries and Eastern stuffs, and beautiful flowers were massed together on tables and mantel. Fleecy had been freshly washed, and was ornamented with a gay pink ribbon tied in an enormous bow at the back of her neck, suspending a little gold bell, which tinkled as she walked about with her great tail in the air. A glowing wood fire burned on the hearth, and on a white fur rug, which had been spread in front of it, stood Mimi. The metamorphosis in her was quite as startling as in the room. She was dressed in a scant and clinging little gown of white _crêpe_, half-low about the throat, from which a fall of creamy lace hung down. It was loosely gathered in about the waist by a silver girdle, and had great flowing sleeves, from which her little hands came out divested of all ornament, except her wedding-ring. Her tiny feet were cased in white slippers worked with silver. But the wonder of it all was her face. It was nothing short of radiantly beautiful this evening. Her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were pink as roses. Her hair, instead of being twisted, as usual, into a decorous knot, was falling free about her shoulders. It was not long, but curly and fluffy as a child’s. “You look about twelve years old,” was Mrs. Bryan’s comment. “Bertie always said so, when I wore my hair like this,” she answered, delightedly. “He loves it this way best of all. I was so afraid I’d look too old to do it; but if I have grown old and thin, thank the _good_ God, it doesn’t show to-night!” It was the first expression of religious fervor that Mrs. Bryan had ever heard her use; but as she said this, she clasped her hands and looked upward in a rapture of thanksgiving, the sincerity of which could not be doubted. “Fleecy, do you know who’s coming?” she exclaimed, suddenly catching the big cat up, and looking into its face as if it had been a child’s. “Master, Fleecy--master!” Fleecy certainly pricked up her ears, seeing which her mistress covered her with rapturous kisses, while Mrs. Bryan had more than a suspicion that Fleecy mistook the word “master” for “mouse;” but this she would not have dared to suggest. “Isn’t it after eight?” said Mimi, looking at the little clock on the mantel. “Oh, if he shouldn’t come!” And at the thought of this the color faded from her cheeks. It came bounding back, however, the next minute, as the door-bell was heard. When Mrs. Bryan reached the landing at the head of the stairs, she found Mauma leaning over the railing and looking into the hall below. “Is it Mr. Leith?” Mrs. Bryan asked. “Yes, it’s him--the ugly buzzard!” answered Mauma, with intense disgust.