“There, now, girls, just take a survey of me all round, and give us your opinion; but first, Eva, let me have an observation. All in white, and looking like one of them great swans in the Park; not bad! Though I should like something a little more stylish. You are going as my friend, and I’m anxious about your looking first rate. Still, it’s my candid opinion that you’ll do. Step out here, and let us see how your dress falls. Gracious me, what a train! Longer than mine, I do believe; streaming out like a white banner. Yes, I say it again; you’ll do, Eva! Now just manage a thing or two for me. I couldn’t trust Kate Gorman to put on my head-dress, and brought it along. Stylish, isn’t it?” Mrs. Smith drew a paper from her pocket, and unfolded a yellow feather, long enough to take in her head at one sweep, which she held up triumphantly. “See how it curls and quivers; something like a feather, that! Now, I want you to put it on, like a queen wears her crown, over the forehead, round one side, and streaming out behind!” Eva and Ruth changed glances of dismay. Both hesitated to wound the kind woman’s vanity, but felt that silence would be cruel. “I would not wear anything on my head, Mrs. Smith; you have such fine hair, it seems a pity to conceal it,” said Ruth. “Let me do some braids, and change it a little. Then you can have nothing more becoming.” “But I bought the feather a purpose,” answered Mrs. Smith, eyeing her purchase with rueful regret; “and it is such a splendid one, with a contrast to it. That was what the milliner observed when I told her the color of my dress.” “Still I would not wear it this evening. Eva sees a great many stylish people, you know, and can tell you that feathers like that are not in the fashion for evening-dress, just now.” “Oh, if she says it, I’ll give in!” “Then let me change your hair at once. Sit down by me. What quantities of hair, and how long!” Deftly, and with fingers that seemed to fly through the long tresses of hair, Ruth soon crowned the head of her friend with a matronly coronal of braids, and made some other alterations in her dress, which were submitted to with inward protest. Just as the last touches were given, a carriage drove up, and some one rang the door-bell. Mrs. Smith sprang to her feet, drew up the skirt of her dress, and ran into the kitchen, protesting that she would not see a stranger for the world. As her dress swept with a rushing and voluminous rustle through one door, Mr. Ross came through the other. CHAPTER XXXIV. MRS. CARTER BECOMES FASHIONABLE.