In spite of Marjorie's reiterated assurances that she didn't need any help, Hortense reappeared, and insisted on making herself useful. She was very polite and talked volubly in broken English about Mademoiselle's being _fatiguer_ and how glad she, Hortense, would be to assist her in every way, but Marjorie could not help feeling uncomfortable, and wishing that the well-intentioned maid would go away and leave her to unpack by herself. But what made her still more uncomfortable was the fact that Elsie also lingered, and regarded every article that came out of that modest leather trunk, with a keen, critical eye. "What are you going to wear down to dinner?" she inquired anxiously as the last things were being stowed away in the bureau drawers. "I don't know," said Marjorie; "I hadn't thought about it. I suppose my gray flannel suit, or else a clean shirt-waist and duck skirt." Elsie clasped her hands in horror. "Oh, you can't, you can't possibly!" she cried in real dismay. "Those things will do very well for breakfast and luncheon, but everybody dresses here in the evening. Let me see what you can wear. You haven't got much, but I suppose that white muslin will do." "But that is my very best dress," protested Marjorie, her cheeks crimsoning from embarrassment and distress. "I don't think Mother would like to have me wear it the first evening. I won't have anything left for really grand occasions if I do." "Oh, yes, you will," said Elsie, confidently. "Mamma is going to buy you a lot of new clothes; that was all arranged before you came. It would never do to have you going about everywhere in these things." Marjorie glanced at her cousin's stylish, well fitting blue chiffon and her heart was filled with dismay. Was it possible that all her mother's and aunt's stitches had been taken in vain? It was very kind of Aunt Julia to wish to buy her pretty clothes, but she did not like to have her present wardrobe spoken of as "those things." Before she had time to say any more on the subject, however, Mrs. Carleton appeared, to tell them to hurry, as her husband was impatient for his dinner. That first dinner in the big crowded hotel restaurant was a wonderful revelation to Marjorie. The bright lights, the gay music, the ladies in their pretty evening dresses, it was all like a vision of fairyland, and for the first few minutes she could do nothing but gaze about her and wonder if she were awake. "And do you really know all these people?" she whispered to Elsie, when they were seated at one of the small tables, and a waiter had taken their order. "Good gracious, no," laughed Elsie, who was beginning to find this unsophisticated Western cousin decidedly amusing. "We don't know one of them to speak to." Marjorie's eyes opened wide in astonishment. "How very strange," she said. "I supposed people who lived in the same house always knew each other. We know everybody at home, even if they live ten miles away."