“Oh, how dear of you to think so, dad!” was her answer, then her manner changed to an impishness as she added: “It’s certainly fine to have such a verdict to fall back on first, because there’s going to be a cataclysm hereabouts in a few minutes about my angelic appearance. Mother’s going to have a spasm or two when she sees my dress.” Her eyes were full of mischief as she placed her hand on her father’s arm wheedlingly. “But you’ll stand by me, won’t you—there’s a good dad?” Hugh was surprised. “Why, what’s wrong, little one?” he asked. “Looks to me like a very wonderful little gown,” and his eyes, trained to admire feminine adornment, took in with admiration the details of his daughter’s dainty creation of cream lace with its garlands of pink rosebuds. “Oh, there’s nothing the matter with the dress, but _look_ at my neck and arms,” Elinor hastened to explain as she held out the discussed members for inspection. “Don’t you see they’re actually _bare_. Oh, what a crime!” She shook her finger admonishingly at her roundly-molded young arm. Then her mocking turned to more of seriousness as she went on: “I can tell you things, dad, and you’ll understand, so you might just as well be told before the explosion how naughty-naughty your little girl is. The facts are these: When we went to Madame Felice’s for my last fitting, the dress was just as you see it now, but mother wouldn’t have it at all. She said it was positively indecent for a girl of eighteen to expose her neck and arms, and she ordered Madame to fill in the neck with lace and add sleeves to reach the elbows. Madame declared that it would ruin the entire charm of the gown, but mother was as firm as a rock and she couldn’t sway her an inch. Well, when we reached home, I decided to take the matter into my own hands, so I called up Felice and told her mother had changed her mind and she was to leave the gown as it was—well—and here it is!” Hugh’s half humorous expression was still entirely admiring as he looked over the troublesome garment. He laughed as his shoulders shrugged in dismissal of something not understood. “Well, child,” he added, as he took her hand and patted it, “as far as I’m concerned, I am still of the same opinion—both you and you gown are beautiful. Your neck and arms are perfect, and I don’t see why you should have to hide them—I do wish,” and there was a hint of impatience in his voice, “that your mother would get over some of her old-fashioned ideas.”