I stood in front of the glass and was perfectly well satisfied with the figure I made. I have already said that my beauty inclined toward coarseness, and I counted upon this as a perfecting touch for the masquerade when I should have had my hair cropped close. I kept what I needed, and paid the lad who took away the remainder of the clothes. My purchase comprised a cap, waistcoat, coat and trousers, and a large red cotton pocket-handkerchief, a flannel shirt, and a loose silk neckerchief such as seamen wear in a sailor’s knot. These things amply sufficed for the experiment I desired to make. Some time on the following day, before the hour at which I expected Will, I dressed myself in the sailor’s clothes, but my hair was so thick and plentiful that I was scarcely able to coil it all away upon the top of my head so as to secrete the bulk of it under my sailor lad’s cap. After a fashion I succeeded; I held up a glass and observed that, with the cap on, the back of my head might very well pass for a man’s at a little distance. I next rubbed some rouge over my temples and eyebrows and cheeks to give my face a look of sunburn. On the staircase I met my maid. She started, and cried out, and stared, not in the least degree recognising me. ‘What pretty girl are you?’ said I, ‘maid or mistress? A fine woman looked out of her bedroom window just now, and seeing your hall door open I made bold to enter. Where is she? I can’t find her.’ I spoke at length purposely to try an experiment with my voice on her accustomed ear, but seemingly my attire had changed my voice as completely as it had transformed my figure. ‘How dare you enter this house?’ she exclaimed, and then she began to screech out: ‘Miss Johnstone, here’s a strange man in the house. Mr. Stanford----’ And she ran downstairs calling for Mr. Stanford. I sprang and caught her when she was on my parlour landing and twisting her around exclaimed: ‘Don’t you know me? I’m your mistress. I wish to play a joke off on my cousin. Look, do you know me?’ and I thrust my face into hers. She uttered a variety of exclamations such as, ‘Well, I never!’ and ‘Who’d ha’ thought it?’ and ‘Lor’ what a handsome young chap you make to be sure, miss,’ and giggled and blushed and eyed me from top to toe with astonishment. ‘Would you know me after looking a bit?’ said I. ‘No, miss. There never was no artfuller make-up in a stage play.’ ‘Didn’t you recognise my voice?’ ‘It sounded like your figure looks,’ said she. ‘Well,’ said I, ‘when Mr. Will Johnstone arrives, open the door, show him in as though you supposed I was in the room, and then shut the door smartly upon him.’