A door on the right of the fireplace attracted her. She turned the handle of this, to find it opened on to a luxuriously fitted bathroom, in a corner of which a fire was burning. Mavis returned to the bedroom, still wondering at the sudden change in her fortunes; even now, with all these tangible evidences of the alteration in her condition, she could scarcely believe it to be true: it all seemed like something out of a book or on the stage, two forms of distraction which, according to Miss Allen, did anything but represent life as it really was. She was still mentally agape at her novel surroundings when Parkins, Mrs Hamilton's maid, entered the room to dress Mavis. Parkins's appearance surprised her; she was wholly unlike her conception of what a lady's-maid should be. Instead of being unassumingly dressed, quiet, self-effacing, Parkins was a bold, buxom wench, with large blue eyes and a profusion of fair hair. She wore white lace underskirts, openwork silk stockings, and showy shoes. Her manner was that of scarcely veiled familiarity. She carried upon her arm a gorgeous evening gown. Mavis made an elaborate toilette. She bathed, presently to clothe herself in the many delicate garments which Mrs Hamilton had provided. Her hair was dressed by Parkins; later, when she put on the evening frock, she hardly knew herself. The gown was of grey chiffon, embroidered upon the bodice and skirt with silver roses; grey silk stockings, grey silver embroidered shoes completed the toilette. "Madam sent you these," said Parkins, returning to the room after a short absence. "Those!" cried Mavis, as her eyes were attracted by the pearl necklaces and other costly jewels which the maid had brought. "Madam entertains very rich gentlemen; she likes everyone about her to look their best." Mavis, with faint reluctance, let Parkins do as she would with her. The pearl necklaces were roped about her neck; gold bracelets were put upon her arms; a thin platinum circlet, which supported a large emerald, was clasped about her head. Mavis stood to look at herself in the glass. She could scarcely believe that the tall, queenly, ardent-looking girl was the same tired, dispirited creature who had listlessly pinned on her hat of a morning before tramping out, in all weathers, to search for work. She gazed at herself for quite two minutes; whatever happened, the memory of how she looked in all this rich finery was something to remember. "Will I do?" she asked of Mrs Hamilton, when that person, very richly garbed, came into the room. Mrs Hamilton looked her all over before replying: "Yes, you'll do." "I'm glad." "I never make a mistake. You can go, Parkins." When the maid had left the room, Mrs Hamilton said: "I'm going to introduce you to my friends as Miss Devereux." "But--" "I wish it." "But--" Mavis did not at all like this resolve. "It was the name of my last companion, and I've got used to it. Besides, I wish it."