Rob, foreseeing this question, had been engaged in a hasty mental estimate of the original cost of the poplin and the silk. "Dollar and a quarter for the woollen stuff--one seventy-five, surely, for the brocade, when Mardy married, just--it cost precisely three dollars a yard, Aunt Azraella," she said aloud, before her mother could reply. Mrs. Winslow held up her hands in horror, and Mrs. Grey said, reproachfully: "Rob, how can you?" "I've no doubt the child speaks the truth," said Aunt Azraella, quickly. "Thanks, aunt; I do try to," said Rob. "Mardy, you know it must have cost at least three dollars--both of it." "And you don't think that disgraceful, as you are situated?" began Mrs. Winslow, but her sister-in-law interrupted her. "Azraella," she cried--it was indicative of Aunt Azraella's character that on the hottest day, and under the stress of physical weariness, no one ever thought of abbreviating her name--"Azraella, aren't you used to Rob's pranks yet? This is my old grey poplin, dyed, and run together with the stripes of a handsome brocade I had when I was married. This scamp of a girl is giving you the original cost of both materials; I am very glad it looks well enough to deceive even your keen eyes." But Aunt Azraella was not to be diverted from expressing the wrath which had been gathering on her brow since Mrs. Grey had begun explaining. "Roberta is distinctly a trial," she said, severely. "An unmannerly, impertinent girl. She may consider it funny to give me such a misleading answer, but I consider it most disrespectful." "I was only trying to be cheerful, aunt," said Rob, her face crimson, and struggling not only to speak quietly, but to speak at all. "I didn't intend to deceive you, but only to--well, to have a little fun before you found out the truth." "I know perfectly that you always object to my interest in your affairs, but I consider your good more important than your likings. I shall always tell all of you--from your indolent father and your indulgent mother down--precisely what I think. It is my duty to be perfectly candid and truthful," said Mrs. Winslow with the air of a martyr. "Perfect candor is rather dangerous, Azraella," said Mrs. Grey, and Rob saw that she was having as much difficulty in speaking calmly as her inflammable self. "One should wait until it is sought, and then not indulge in its full expression, especially when one's opinions are offensive--such as an allusion to the head of a house as indolent, for instance. Mr. Grey has been working so hard of late that I am anxious about him. And you see that you judged rashly in pronouncing us extravagant. We were rather priding ourselves on our clever thrift. It is such a very humid, trying day, that it is not favorable to too great zeal for others."