“I don’t know about lookin’ sillier,” said Aunt Mary. “Strikes me a woman can’t look more foolish than she does without a bonnet. However, I don’t feel like makin’ a fuss over anythin’ to-day. I’ve had a good rest and I feel fine. I’ll dress and go out with Jack, an’ I know one thing, I’ll enjoy every minute I can, for this week is goin’ like lightnin’ and when it’s over—well, you never saw Lucinda, so it’s no use tryin’ to make you understand, but—” she drew a long breath and shook her head meaningly. Janice did not reply. She busied herself with the cares of the toilet of her mistress, and when that was complete the carriage was summoned for the shopping tour. Jack saw that the bonnet was attended to first of all and then they went to another store and purchased a scarf pin for Joshua and a workbox for Lucinda. After that Aunt Mary decided that she wanted her four friends each to have a souvenir of her visit, so she insisted upon being conducted to that gorgeous establishment which is lighted with diamonds instead of electricity and ordered four dressing-cases to be constructed, everything with gold tops, to be engraved with the proper initials and also the inscription, “from M.W. in memory of N.Y.” Jack rather protested at this, asking her if she realized what the engraving would come to. “I don’t know,” said Aunt Mary recklessly and lavishly. “I don’t care what it comes to either. It’s comin’ to me, anyhow, ain’t it? I rather think so. Seems likely.” The clerk took down the order, and then as he was ushering them door-wards he fell by the wayside and craved permission to show some tiaras of emeralds and some pearl dog-collars. Jack rebelled. “You don’t want any of those,” he exclaimed, trying to propel her by. “I ain’t so sure,” said Aunt Mary. “I might have a dog some day.” But her nephew got her back into their conveyance, and they drove away. It was so late that they could not consider the park and so had to make a tour of Fifth Avenue to use up the time left before dinner. Then when they headed toward the café they were delighted to observe Mitchell awaiting them just where he was to have been. “I see him,” said Aunt Mary. “My! I’d know him as far off as I’d know anybody.” But then she sighed. “I wish the others were there, too,” she said sadly; “seems awful—just three of us.” The dinner which followed echoed her sentiment. It was a very nice dinner, but painfully quiet, and Aunt Mary grew very restless. “Seems like wastin’ time, anyhow,” she said uneasily. “I don’t see why the others didn’t come. Well, can’t we go to Coney Island or the Statue of Liberty or somewhere when we’re through?” Mitchell looked at Jack. “Why, you see, Aunt Mary,” the latter promptly shrieked, “we thought we’d be good and go home early and sort of rest up to-night so as to have a high old time to-morrow.” Aunt Mary’s face, which had fallen during the first part of their speech, brightened up at the last words.