I seized a pencil, scribbled a hasty "Expect me by train arriving twelve," and having despatched the promise, sat down to consider how I was to keep it. What an excitement to think of feeling young again, and being able to devote my attention to looking as nice as I could, instead of laboriously contriving disfigurements! Under my bed lived a box wardrobe on wheels, in which, carefully stretched and padded to avoid creases, reposed a selection of garments which were certainly not suited to old Miss Harding's requirement. Mentally I reviewed them, selected the prettiest and most becoming, saw a vision of myself putting the last touches before the glass, with Bridget's beaming face watching every stage. Oh, it would be an exhilarating variety, and easy, too-- perfectly easy. I would give the orphan leave of absence for two days, and send her rejoicing to stay with "me aunt". Then in leisurely enjoyment I would make my toilette and march complacently into the street. We possess no porter in our modest mansions; ten to one I should pass through the hall unseen, and even if I had the ill-luck to encounter a neighbour--well, if my disguise is good enough to deceive Ralph Maplestone, it can surely defy less interested eyes! Bridget was as excited as I was. She hustled the orphan out of the flat, and superintended my toilette as eagerly as though I were dressing for a wedding, instead of a country visit. "Praise the fates, we'll see you looking yourself again! I never was in favour of this dressing up, and playing tricks with a face which anyone else would be proud to have, and to take care of. Not that you hadn't more sense than I gave you credit for! We've been a godsend to this place, and if anyone doubts it, let 'em look at the kitchen book, and see the pounds of good meat I've made into beef tea with me own hands. And you running about by day and by night, waiting on 'em all in turns. There's no doubt but we've done good, but what I say is--why not do it with your own face?" "Don't be foolish, Bridget! I couldn't do it! Look at me now!"--I swirled round to face her, with a rustle of silk and a flare of skirts. "_Do_ I look the sort of person to wheel out prams, and give tea parties to widowers, and be looked upon as a prop and support by my neighbours?" Bridget chuckled. "Go away wid you then!" said she, and that was the end of the discussion.