As soon as she got into her parlor she threw off her bonnet and shawl, and plunging into her arm-chair, she tried to compose her mind sufficiently to take a calm view of the dilemma, and determine on what line of conduct to pursue--whether to send an excuse to Mrs. Hanaway, or whether to go to the party in one of her old head-dresses. Either alternative was insupportable. To lose the party, the game at loo, the distinction of being seen in such good society--it was too provoking; besides, very likely people would suppose she had not been invited; Miss Charlotte, she had no doubt, would try to make them believe so. But then, on the other hand, to wear one of her old turbans was so mortifying--they were so very shabby, so unfashionable--on an occasion, too, when everybody would be so well-dressed! Oh, it was aggravating--vexatious in the extreme! She passed the day in reflection--chewing the cud of sweet and bitter fancies; recalling to herself how well she looked in the turban--for she had tried it on; figuring what would have been Miss Charlotte's mortification if she had been the disappointed person--how triumphantly she, Miss Cecilia, would have marched into the room with the turban on her head--how crestfallen the other would have looked; and then she varied her occupation by resuscitating all her old turbans, buried in antique band-boxes deep in dust, and trying whether it were possible, out of their united materials, to concoct one of the present fashionable shape and dimensions. But the thing was impracticable: the new turban was composed of crimson satin and gold lace, hers of pieces of muslin and gauze. When the mind is very much engrossed, whether the subject of contemplation be pleasant or unpleasant, time flies with inconceivable rapidity; and Miss Cecilia was roused from her meditations by hearing the clock in the passage strike four, warning her that it was necessary to come to some decision, as the hour fixed for the party, according to the primitive customs of B----, was half-past seven, when the knell of the clock was followed by a single knock at the door, and the next moment her maid walked into the room with--what do you think?--the identical crimson and gold turban in her hand! "What a beauty!" cried Susan, turning it round, that she might get a complete view of it in all its phases. "Was there any message, Sue?" inquired Miss Cecilia, gasping with agitation, for her heart was in her throat. "No, ma'am," replied Sue; "Miss Gibbs's girl just left it; she said it should have come earlier, but she had so many places to go to." "And she's gone, is she, Susan?" "Yes, ma'am, she went directly--she said she hadn't got half through yet." "Very well, Susan, you may go; and remember, I'm not at home if anybody calls; and if any message comes here from Miss Gibbs, you'll say I'm gone out, and you don't expect me home till very late." "Very well, ma'am."