"All faded out," says Mis' Hubbelthwait, and thought Miss Mayhew was making fun of her. But she wasn't. And she insisted on draping it and putting it near the front. Miss Mayhew was nice, but she was queer in some things. I'd upholstered my kitchen rocker with part of my Paisley shawl, and covered the ironing-board under the cloth with the rest of it--and nothing would do but that old chair must be toted up in her room! And yet I'd spent four dollars for a new golden-oak rocker when she'd engaged the rooms.... But me, I urged them to let her do as she pleased with Mis' Hubbelthwait's shawl that morning; because I remembered that what had been the matter in my kitchen the afternoon before was probably still the matter. And moreover, I'd looked when I made the bed, and I see that the picture hadn't been set back on the bureau. Well, then we began putting up Miss Mayhew's own things--and I tell you they were pretty. There wasn't much to them--little slimpsey soft silk things, made real inexpensive with no lining, and not fussed up at all--but they had an air to them that you can hardly ever get into a dress, no matter how close you follow your paper pattern. She had a pink and a blue and a white and a lavender--and one lovely rose gown that I took and held up before her. "I'd dearly love to see you in this," says I. "I bet you look like a rose in it--or more so." Her face, that was usually bright and soft all in one, sort of fell, like a cloud had blown over it. "I always liked to wear that dress," she says. "I had--there were folks that liked it." "Put it on to-night," I says, "and take charge of this room for us." But she kind of shrunk back, and shook her head. And I thought, like lightning, "It was the Picture Man that was on the bureau that liked to see you in that dress--or I miss my guess." But I never said a word, and went on putting a dress-form together. The room looked real pretty when we got all the things up. There were fourteen dresses in all, around the room. In the very middle was Mis' Toplady's wedding-dress--white silk, made real full, with the white raspberry buttons. "For twenty years," she said, "it's been in the bottom drawer of the spare room. It's nice to see it wore." And we all thought it was so nice that we borrowed the wax figure from the White House Emporium, and put the dress on. It looked real funny, though, to see that smirking, red-cheeked figure with lots of light hair and its head on one side, coming up out of Mis' Toplady's wedding-dress. Us ladies were all ready and on hand early that night, dressed in our black alpacas and wearing white aprons, most of us; and Miss Mayhew had on a little white dimity, and she insisted on helping in the kitchen--we were going to give them only lemonade and sandwiches, for we were expecting the whole town, and the admission was only fifteen cents apiece.