Griffith had brought his offering, too,--not much of an offering, perhaps, but worth a good deal when valued according to the affectionate good-will it represented. “The girls” had a very warm corner in the young man's tender heart, and the half-dozen pairs of gloves he produced from the shades of an inconvenient pocket of his great-coat, held their own modest significance. “Gloves,” he said, half apologetically, “always come in; and I believe I heard Mollie complaining of hers the other day.” Certainly they were appreciated by the young lady in question, their timely appearance disposing of a slight difficulty of addition to her toilet. The maroon silk was to be a surprise; and surely, if ever surprise was a success, this was. Taking into consideration the fact that she had spent the earlier part of the day in plaintive efforts to remodel a dubious garment into a form fitting to grace the occasion, it is not to be wondered at that the sudden realization of one of her most hopelessly vivid imaginings rather destroyed the perfect balance of her equilibrium. She had almost completed her toilet when Dolly produced her treasure; nothing, in fact, remained to be done but to don the dubious garment, when Dolly, slipping out of the room, returned almost immediately with something on her arm. “Never mind your old alpaca, Mollie,” she said. “I have something better for you here.” Mollie turned round in some wonder to see what she meant, and the next minute she turned red and pale with admiring amazement. “Dolly,” she said, rather unnecessarily, “it's a maroon silk.” And she sat down with her hands clasped, and stared at it in the intensity of her wonder. “Yes,” said Dolly, “it is a maroon silk, and you are to wear it to-night. It is Phil's birthday present to you,--and mine.” The spell was broken at once. The girl got up and made an impulsive rush at her, and, flinging her bare white arms out, caught her in a tempestuous embrace, maroon silk and all, laughing and crying both together. “Dolly,” she said,--“Dolly, it is the grandest thing I ever had in my life, and you are the best two--you and Phil--that ever lived!” And not being as eloquent by nature as she was grateful and affectionate, she poured out the rest of her thanks in kisses and interjections. Then Dolly, extricating herself, proceeded to add the final touches to the unfinished toilet, and in a very few minutes Miss Mollie stood before the glass regarding herself in such ecstatic content as she had perhaps never before experienced. “Who is going to be here, Dolly?” she asked, after taking her first survey. “Who?” said Dolly. “Well, I scarcely know. Only one or two of Phil's friends and Ralph Gowan.” Mollie gave a little start, and then blushed in the most pathetically helpless way. “Ah!” she said, and looked at her reflection in the glass again, as if she did not exactly know what else to do.