"You have a right to select your own dressmaker, Elizabeth," returned the colonel, with a frigid wave of his hand, for he had not got over his disappointment about the girls. "I only warn you because you are very quixotic in your notions; but we must take the world as we find it, and make the best of it; and there is your brother coming home by and by. We must be careful, for Hammond's sake." And, as Elizabeth's good sense owned the justice of her father's remark, there was nothing more said on the subject. But it was not without a feeling of embarrassment that Miss Middleton entered the cottage: her great heart was yearning over these girls, whom she was compelled to keep at a distance. True, her father was right, Hammond was coming home, and a young officer of seven-and-twenty was not to be trusted where three pretty girls were concerned: it would never do to invite them to Brooklyn or to make too much of them. Miss Middleton had ranged herself completely on her father's side, but at the sight of Nan's sweet face and her grave little bow she forgot all her prudent resolutions, and her hand was held out as though to an equal. "I have come to ask you if you will be good enough to make me a dress," she said, with a charming smile. "You have succeeded so well with Miss Drummond that I cannot help wishing to have one too." And when she had said this she looked quietly round her, and surveyed the pretty work-room, and Dulce sitting at the sewing-machine, and lastly Phillis's bright, intelligent face, as she stood by the table turning over some fashion-books. At that moment Mrs. Challoner entered the room with her little work-basket, and placed herself at the other window. Miss Middleton began talking to her at once, while Nan measured and pinned. "I don't think I ever spent a pleasanter half-hour," she told her father afterwards. "Mattie was right in what she said: they have made the work-room perfectly lovely with pictures and old china: and nothing could be nicer than their manners,--so simple and unassuming, yet with a touch of independence too." "And the old lady?" inquired the colonel, maliciously, for he had seen Mrs. Challoner in church, and knew better than to speak of her so disrespectfully. "Old lady, father! why, she is not old at all. She is an exceedingly pleasing person, only a little stately in her manner; one would not venture to take a liberty with her. We had such a nice talk while the eldest daughter was fitting me. Is it not strange, father dear, that they know the Paines? and Mrs. Sartoris is an old acquaintance of theirs. I think they were a little sorry when they heard we knew them too, for the second girl colored up so when I said Adelaide was your goddaughter." "Humph? we will have Adelaide down here, and hear all about them," responded her father, briskly.