"See how unkindly I dress my best impulses," said Camelia, smiling. "I really want to help her, and to make her smart and tidy. A few touches of my fingers about Mary's unfurnished forehead, and her face assumes a certain grace and prettiness. Alceste, you must not take my flippancy _au grand sérieux_--you are in danger of becoming ridiculous, Alceste, I warn you of it." She had certainly succeeded in making "Alceste" smile, and with a reassured and reassuring wave of the hand she left him, delighted with her own ability for forcing him to swallow her naughtinesses--for swallow them he must; she would feign nothing for him; she would exaggerate even the defects he saw so solemnly. She was quite sure now that she must not be left alone, and that Perior must spend the afternoon with her. She ran upstairs quickly, conscious of how prettily she sprang from stair to stair, of how charmingly with its silk and muslin rustle her white dress swayed about her, conscious even of the distinguished elegance of her white hand gliding up the hand rail; for Camelia had always time for these æsthetic notes, and her grace, her dress, and her hand were so many reasons for keeping Perior to admire them. Mary was quite ready, and looking really nice; a pretty color, and the dull fairness of her hair smoothed neatly beneath her hat. Camelia did not think of Mary as an obstacle to be callously pushed aside; but as an insignificance rather, quite as well satisfied with the barrel-organ equivalent she would offer, as with the orchestra that Camelia intended to keep for herself, since she had the supreme right of appreciation. Indeed she hardly thought of Mary at all, as she acted surprise on the threshold. "Were you going with them? They are gone, dear!" Mary turned from the mirror, her habit skirt falling from her arm; on her face a dismal astonishment, that Camelia, absorbed in the mental completion of her arrangement, hardly noticed. "Sir Arthur, Gwendolen, the others--you were going out with them." She scarcely knew why she hedged her position with this pretence of ignorance. But Mary's face brightened happily. "Oh no, Mr. Perior is going with me. You haven't seen him, then. He came for me." Camelia had the barrel-organ all in readiness, and prepared to roll it forward without delay. "Oh! did he? Well, Mary, I have another plan for you this afternoon, you will like it just as well, I know. I promised Mrs. Grier to make that charitable round of visits to her poor people with her this afternoon. We were to go to the almshouses, and I have a basket of sweets for the children in Copley, and now I must give up going because of this dreadful headache, and knowing that nothing would please you more----."