"Should you?" Mrs. Darling mused, with a finger against her lip. "But I look less well in it. Surely I had rather look pretty myself than have my dress look pretty, hadn't I? Give me the black and white, and hurry. Mr. Goodhue will be here in a second. Bonnet!" she burst forth, in quite another tone. "You trying creature! Didn't I _tell_ you to put a draw-string through that lace? Didn't I _tell_ you? _Where_ are your ears? _Where_ are your senses? What on _earth_ do you spend your time thinking about, I should like to know, anyway? I wouldn't wear that thing as it _is_, not for--not for--Oh, I am tired of living surrounded by fools! Take it away--take it away! Bring the violet!" At last she was encased in the fluffy violet crape, and at sight of the sweet picture she made in the mirror her brow cleared a little; she looked baby-eyed and angelic again, with her wavy hair meekly parted in the middle. While she looked at herself she let Bonnet have one of her arms to button the long glove. "Ouch! Go softly; you pinch!" she murmured. Bonnet changed her method with the silver hook, adjusted it anew, and pulled at it ever so softly. "Ouch! You pinch me!" said Mrs. Darling, a little louder. Bonnet stopped short, and looked helplessly at the glove, that could not be made to meet without strain over the plump white wrist. After a breathing-while, with stealthy gentleness, again she fitted the silver loop over the button, and, with a devout inward appeal to Heaven, tried to induce it through the button-hole. She had almost succeeded when Mrs. Darling screamed, "Ouch, ouch, ouch! You pinch like _anything_! I am black and blue!" And tearing her arm from the quaking servant, began fidgeting with the button herself, soon pulling it off. [Illustration: "SHE LET BONNET HAVE ONE OF HER ARMS"] "Bonnet, how many times must I tell you to sew the buttons fast on my gloves before you give them me to put on?" she asked, severely. "No, they were not!" she stormed, and peeled off the glove, throwing it far from her, inside out. There was a knock, and a respectful voice saying, outside the door, "Mr. Goodhue is below, ma'am." "Get a needle," Mrs. Darling said, humbly, like a child reminded of its promise to behave, and waited patiently while the button was sewed on, and held out her arm again, letting Bonnet pinch without a murmur. A final bunch of violets was tucked in the bosom of her gown, and she was leaving the bedroom, when, as if at a sudden thought, she turned back, went to the door of a little room leading from it, and stood looking in. "Aren't they lovely, the hundred of them?" she gushed. "Did you ever see such a sight? One prettier than the other! I almost wish I were one of the little girls myself!" "Them that gets them will be made happy, sure, ma'am. I suppose it's for some Christmas-tree?"