"Hot soapsuds will be the best thing," she said. "If the young lady will come up with me at once, and take the frock off, I will see what can be done." "Yes, do go with Elizabeth, dear!" urged Margaret. "Nothing can be done till the dress is off." And poor Peggy went off, hanging her head and looking very miserable. Rita, as soon as her dress was out of danger, was able to see the affair in another light, and as her cousin left the room burst into a peal of silvery laughter. "Oh, hush!" cried Margaret. "She will hear you, Rita!" "And if she does?" replied Rita, drawing her chair up to the table again, and sipping her chocolate leisurely. "Acrobats expect to be laughed at, and certainly this was a most astonishing _tour de force_. Seriously, my dear," she added, seeing Margaret's troubled look, "how are we to take our Western cousin, if we do not treat her as a comic monstrosity? Is it possible that she is a Montfort? I shall call her Cousin Calibana, I think!" She nibbled daintily at a macaroon, and went on: "It is a thing to be thankful for that the green frock is probably hopelessly ruined. I am quite sure it would have affected my nerves seriously if I had been obliged to see it every day. Do they perhaps cut dresses with a mowing-machine in the West?" and she laughed again, a laugh so rippling and musical that it was a pity it was not good-natured. Margaret listened in troubled silence. What could she say that would not at once alienate this foreign cousin, who seemed now inclined to friendliness with her? And yet she could not let poor Peggy go undefended. At last she said gently, yet with meaning, "Dear Rita, you make me tremble for myself. If you are so very severe in your judgments, who can hope to pass uncriticised?" "You, _ma cousine_!" cried Rita. "But there is no question of you; you are of one's own kind! You are altogether charming. Surely you must see that this young person is simply impossible. Impossible!" she repeated with decision. "There is no other word for it." "No," said Margaret, bravely, "I do not see that, Rita! She is shy and awkward, and I should think very young for her age. But she has an honest, good face, and I like her. Besides," she added, unconsciously repeating the argument she had used in defending Rita herself against Peggy's animadversions, "it is absurd to judge a person on half an hour's acquaintance." "Oh, half an hour!" said Rita lightly; "half a lifetime! My judgments, _chere cousine_, are made at the first glance, and remain fixed." "And are they always right?" asked Margaret, half amused and half vexed. "They are right for me!" said Rita, nodding her pretty head. "That is enough." She pushed her chair back, and coming to Margaret's side, laid her hand lightly on her shoulder. "_Chere cousine_," she said, in a caressing tone, "you are so charming, I do hope you are not good. It is detestable to be good! Avoid it, _tres chere_! believe me, it is impossible!"