"What makes you wear such very deep mourning, my dear?" said Miss Compton, fixing her eyes on the perennial black crape bonnet of her companion. "Is it all for the worthy apothecary of Silverton?... But that can't be either, for now I think of it, his charming widow had half the colours of the rainbow about her.... What does it mean, Agnes?" Agnes looked out of the window to conceal a smile, but recovering her composure answered,... "I have never been out of mourning, aunt, since Mr. Barnaby died.... There was a great deal of black not worn out, ... and as it made no difference to me...." "Oh! monstrous!..." interrupted Miss Compton. "I see it all: ... while she wantons about like a painted butterfly, she has thrown her chrysalis-case upon you, my pretty Agnes, in the hope of making you look like a grub beside her.... Is it not so?" "Oh no!... my aunt Barnaby loves dress certainly, ... and greatly dislikes black, and so...." "And so you are to wear it for her?... Well, Agnes, you shan't abuse her, if you think it a sin.... God forbid!... But do not refuse to let me into a few of her ways.... Did she ever ask you to put on her widow's cap, my dear? It might have saved the expense of night-caps at least." * * * * * It was almost a cruelty in Agnes to conceal the many characteristic traits of selfish littleness which she had witnessed in her widowed aunt, from the caustic contemplation of her spinster one, for she would have enjoyed it. But it was so much in her nature to do so, that dearly as she would have loved to amuse aunt Betsy, and give scope to her biting humour on any other theme, she gave her no encouragement on this; so, by degrees, all allusion to Mrs. Barnaby dropped out of their discourse; and if, from time to time, some little sample of her peculiarities peeped forth involuntarily in speaking of the past, the well-schooled old lady learned to enjoy them in silence, and certainly did not love her niece the less for the restraint thus put upon her. * * * * * Considering how complete a novice our spinster practically was as to everything concerning the vast Babylon called London, she contrived to go where she wished and where she willed with wonderfully few blunders. It was all managed between William and herself, and Agnes marvelled at the ease with which much seemingly important business was transacted. The carriage was stopped before a very dusky-looking mansion at no great distance from the Exchange, within the dark passage of which William disappeared for some moments, and then returning, opened the carriage door, and, without uttering a word, gave his arm to assist Miss Compton to descend.