"Ah, here we are--here we are! Now, my little Heather, keep up that youthful expression; it is vastly becoming. Even Lady Helen cannot give you the look of youth, which is so charming, but she can bestow on you the air of fashion, which is indispensable." Father conducted us downstairs and opened the door of the luxurious motor-car. Lady Helen requested me to step in first, and then she followed. A direction was given to the chauffeur, the door was shut behind us, father bowed, and stood with his bare, somewhat bald head in the street. The last glimpse I had of him he was smiling and looking quite radiant; then we turned a corner and he was lost to view. "Well, and what do you think of it all?" said Lady Helen. "Is the little bird in its nest beginning to say, 'Cheep, cheep'? Is it feeling hungry and wanting to see the world?" "All places are the world," I answered, somewhat sententiously. "For goodness' sake, child," said Lady Helen, "don't talk in that prim fashion! Whatever you are in the future, don't put on airs to me. You are about the most ignorant little creature I ever came across--it will be my pleasure to form and mould you, and to bring you at last to that state of perfection which alone is considered befitting to the modern girl. My dear, I mean to be very good to you." "That is, I suppose, because you are so fond of father," I said. She coloured a little, and the hand which she had laid for a moment lightly on my hand was snatched away. "That kind of remark is terribly _outré_," she said; "but I shall soon correct all that, my dear. You won't know yourself in one month from the present time. Child of nature, indeed! You will be much more likely to be the child of art. But dress is the great accessory. Before we begin to form style and manner we must be dressed to suit our part in this world's mummer show." The car drew up before a large and fashionable shop. Lady Helen and I entered. Lady Helen did all the talking, and many bales of wonderful goods, glistening and shining in the beautiful sun, were brought forward for her inspection. Lady Helen chose afternoon dresses, morning dresses, evening dresses; she chose these things by the half-dozen. I tried to expostulate, and to say they would never be worn out; Lady Helen's remark was that they would scarcely drag me through the season. Then I pleaded father's poverty; I whispered to Lady Helen: "Father cannot afford them." She looked at me out of her quizzical dark eyes and, laying her hand on my shoulder, said: "You may be quite sure of one thing, little girl--that I won't allow your father to run into unnecessary expense." I began to be sick of dresses. I found myself treated as a little nobody, I was twisted right way front, and wrong way back. I was made to look over my right shoulder at my own reflection in a long mirror; I was desired to stoop and to stand upright; I was given a succession of mirrors to look through; I got deadly tired of my own face.