‘My dear, I am afraid nothing I have at present would be suitable for a General’s wife at Lady Rotherwood’s party, and we must think of what would be fitting both towards our hostess and papa. Don’t you see?’ ‘Ah! your velvet dress!’ sighed Gillian. ‘My poor old faithful state apparel,’ smiled Lady Merrifield. ‘Poor Gill, you did not think again to have to mourn for it, but I don’t know that even that could have been sufficiently revivified, though it was my cheval de bataille for so many years. For Lady Merrifield’s black velvet of many years’ usefulness, had been put on for her p.p.c. party at Belfast, when Gillian, in abetting Jasper in roasting chestnuts over a paraffin-lamp, had set herself and the tablecloth on fire, and had been extinguished with such damages as singed hair, a scar on Jasper’s hands, and the destruction of her mother’s ‘front breadth.’ There had been such relief and thankfulness at its being no worse that the ‘state apparel’ had not been much mourned, especially as the remains made a charming pelisse for Primrose; and in the retirement of Silverton, it had not been missed till the present occasion. ‘Do gowns cost so very much?’ said Mysie. ‘Indeed they do, my poor Mouse. The lamented cost more than twenty pounds. I had been thinking whether I could afford the requisite garments--not quite so costly--and thought I might get them for about sixteen, with contrivance; but you see I feel it my fault that I let Dolores go and lead Constance to get cheated, and I cannot take the money out of what papa gives for household expenses and your education, so it must come out of my own personal allowance. Don’t you see?’ ‘Ye--es,’ said Gillian, apparently intent on getting a big, black-headed pin repeatedly into the same hole, while Mysie was trying with all her might not to cry. ‘You are thinking it is very hard that you should suffer for Dolly’s faults. Perhaps it is, but such things may often happen to you, my dears. Christians bear them well for love’s sake, you know.’ ‘And it is a little my fault,’ said Gillian, thoughtfully; ‘for it was I that let the chestnut fall into the lamp.’ ‘I--I don’t think I should have minded so much,’ said Mysie, almost crying, ‘if we had done it our own selves--and Fly too--for some very poor woman in the snow.’ ‘I know that very well, Mysie, and this is a much harder trial, as you don’t get the honour and glory of it; and, besides, you will have to take care to say not a word of this reason to Fly or Valetta, or any one else.’ ‘Val will be awfully disappointed,’ said Gillian.