"Mrs. Aarons!" echoed Elizabeth, who knew that the fairy godmother had repaid that lady's hospitality and attentions with her second-best bit of sang-de-boeuf crackle and her sole specimen of genuine Rose du Barry--dear and precious treasures sacrificed to the demands of conscience which proclaimed Mrs. Aarons wronged and insulted by being excluded from the Duff-Scott dinner list. "And she is really coming?" "She really is--though it is her own right to receive, as I think Mrs. Duff-Scott perfectly remembered when she sent her invitation--accompanied, of course, by Mr. Aarons." "And now," said Nelly, looking back, "Patty has got her old wish--she really _is_ in a position to turn up her nose, at last." "Oh," said Patty, vehemently, "don't remind me of that wicked, vulgar, indecent speech! Poor woman, who am I that I should turn up my nose at her? I am very glad she is coming--I think she ought to have been asked long ago. Why not? She is just as good as we are, every bit." Eleanor laughed softly. "Ah, what a difference in one's sentiments does a large fortune make--doesn't it, Elizabeth? Patty doesn't want to turn up her nose at Mrs. Aarons, because, don't you see, she knows she can crush her quite naturally and comfortably by keeping it down. And, besides, when one has got one's revenge--when one has paid off one's old score--one doesn't want to be mean and barbarous. Oh," exclaimed Nelly, rapturously, "I never thought that being rich was so delicious as it is!" "I hope it won't spoil you," said Elizabeth. "I hope it won't spoil _you_," retorted the girl, saucily. "You are in far greater danger than I am." By this time they had reached the top of the stairs, and Eleanor, who had led the way, opened the door, not of Elizabeth's old bedroom, but of the state guest-chamber of the house; and she motioned the bride to enter with a low bow. Here was the explanation of that impatience to get her upstairs. Elizabeth took a few steps over the threshold and then stood still, while the tears rushed into her eyes. The room had been elaborately dressed in white lace and white ribbons; the dressing-table was decorated with white flowers; the bed was covered with an æsthetic satin quilt, and on the bed was spread out a bridal robe--white brocade, the bodice frilled with Brussels lace--with white shoes, white gloves, white silk stockings, white feather fan, white everything _en suite_. "This is your dress for to-night," said Patty, coaxing it with soft hands. "And you will find lots more in the wardrobe. Mrs. Duff-Scott has been fitting you up while you have been away."