“La! Miss Popple, give me that. (One would think you’d had to go to Paris for it.) And straight from Paris it is, my Lady, and all the trouble in the world to get it through, things being as they are over there--as straight,” said Miss Pounce, turning up her fine eyes, “as any confection in this establishment. The newest idea, Madam. Hat, robe and trimmings, down to the parasol all complete, all in harmony, as you perceive. The ve--ry lat--est id--e--a,” said the milliner, dropping her syllables one by one, spreading the flounces and frills over a chair and poising the hat on her clenched hand. “Ex--qui--site, that’s the word, isn’t it, Miss? O, it will become either of your young ladies to perfection. The embroidered lawn, very delicate, very girlish, Madam. Absolutely correct for a young lady that’s a _débutante_. Not white, Oh, no, your Ladyship, cream. Pull up the blinds over there, Miss Popple.--Cream, a shade deeper than ivory, and the pale green ribbons, the blonde, your Ladyship sees, just flung over the hat and fastened with this bunch of primroses. Did your Ladyship ever behold anything more fanciful and pretty? I would not put a bit of ribbon or set another pin into that hat,” said Miss Pounce, “not if you was to offer me a thousand pounds to do it! Oh, Paris ma’m. Yes, ma’am. Hot from Paris if one can use such a word for a thing so cool and April-like. Any young girl,” said Miss Pounce, not without a spice of malice, “would be noted in such attire.” “O Mamma,” said Jane. It was the first time she had spoken. She was gazing at her reflection in the mirror, crowned by the wonderful hat. Her voice was awestruck, as if she were overwhelmed by the sight of her own loveliness. Lady Amelia pursed her lips, and then with some tartness bade her daughter turn round. As she obeyed, Miss Pounce seized the vapoury gown and cunningly held it up against the young lady’s figure. A kind of maternal greed obviously struggled with prudence in Lady Amelia’s heart. She gaped meltingly, then frowned, put her finger to her lip. “Miss could try them all on,” insidiously suggested Pamela Pounce. “O Mamma,” said Miss Jane Vibart, and: “O Mamma,” cried her sister. “Jenny looks a perfect picture in that hat, and I’m sure the dress is the most lovely thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. It would be a sin and a shame not to get them for her.” But Lady Amelia was not so swiftly moved to decision. The garment was tried on and the beautiful Jane was turned and twisted in every direction; while her mother hummed and ha-ed and criticised. “I’m not so sure I like the green waist-ribbon, no, nor the primroses, neither, mere hedgerow flowers. A nice artificial garden rose, now, and a good blue taffety sash.” “O Mamma,” protested the plain Miss Vibart in tones of anguish.