“Come into my dressing-room before you go to bed,” Lady Augusta whispered in her daughter’s ear. The sisters were in the habit of holding their own private assemblies at that confidential moment, and the three elder ones were just preparing for a consultation in Ada’s room when Gussy received this summons. Of course she obeyed it dutifully, with her pretty hair hanging about her shoulders, in a pretty white dressing-gown, all gay with ribbons and embroidery. “I know mamma is going to ask me ever so many questions, and I have nothing to tell her,” she said, pouting, as she left Ada and Helena. But Lady Augusta was very gentle in her questioning. “I think your hair is thicker than it used to be, my darling,” she said, taking the golden locks in her hand with fond admiration. “Don’t _crêper_ more than you can help, for I always think it spoils the hair. Yours is more like what mine used to be than any of the others, Gussy. Helena’s is like your papa’s; but my hair used to be just your colour. Alas! it has fallen off sadly now.” “Your hair is a great deal prettier than mine,” said Gussy, putting her caressing arm round her mother’s neck. “I like that silver shade upon it. Hair gets so sweet when it gets grey--one loves it so. If you had not thought so much about us all, mamma dear, and had so many worries, you would not have had a white thread. I know it is all for us.” “Hush! my dear,” said Lady Augusta; “you are all very good children. I have not had half so many worries as most people. It is in the family. The Hightons all grow grey early. You were looking very nice to-night. That blue becomes you; I always like you best in blue. Did you dance with Edgar Arden more than once, Gussy? I could not quite make out----” “Only once, mamma.” “How was that? He was waiting for us to come in. I suppose you were engaged to half-a-dozen people before you got there. I don’t like you to do that. If they don’t come for you at the proper moment you are kept from dancing altogether, and look as if you were neglected; and if they do come, probably somebody else has made his appearance whom you would like better. I don’t approve of engaging yourself so long in advance.” “But one goes to dance,” said Gussy, with humility; “and to tell the truth, mamma, Mr. Arden likes looking after you quite as much as dancing with me. He likes to see that you are comfortable, and have some one pleasant to talk to, and don’t want for anything. And I like him for it!” the girl cried, fervently. “He is of more use to you than Harry is. I like him because he is so fond of you.”