Fortunately for Golden, little Ruby Desmond did not observe the preoccupation of her new nurse. She had entered upon a voluble tirade against nurses in general, and when she had ended she remarked with a sudden change of tone: "But I don't believe I shall hate you as much as I did the rest. You are younger and prettier than any girl I ever had to amuse me. Come, now, Mary, lay off your hat and jacket. I want you to make my doll a new dress. That lazy Celine would not stick a needle in it, for all I stormed and scolded, and threatened to complain to mamma." Thus adjured, Golden turned her eyes with an effort away from the portrait of Bertram Chesleigh, and proceeded to obey the instructions of her little mistress with what cheerfulness she could, although her heart was beating wildly with the shock she had received on coming suddenly face to face with her lover's portrait in this strange place. She longed, yet dreaded to ask little Ruby what the original of the portrait was to her. Looking from the portrait to the child she could plainly discern in Ruby's proud mouth and flashing, dark eyes, a great and striking resemblance to Mr. Chesleigh. But she was afraid to ask the question that trembled on her lips, so she sat down mutely while Ruby brought a large wax doll and placed it in her lap, together with a large quantity of scraps of silk and muslin and odds and ends of pretty lace. Then she pulled open the drawer of a child's bureau and brought out a garnet silk dress of her own, elaborately made and trimmed. "I want Dollie's dress made exactly like this," she said, hanging it open over the back of a chair for Golden's inspection. "It is in the latest fashion, so Celine says. Celine thinks of nothing but French novels and fashions, so she ought to know." "Your doll is very beautiful. Is it a new one?" asked Golden, trying to say something to please the little creature who was hovering about her, busy and excited with her important preparations for the miniature dressmaking. "Oh, yes, it is tolerably new! Papa gave it to me last week," replied Ruby. "There was a little trunk of clothes with her, but I do not like any of the dresses. They are quite old-fashioned and shabby, I think. Mamma says herself that they must have been made at least a year ago. So I shall never be satisfied until I have a new-fashioned dress for Dollie." She was silent a moment, watching Golden's deft finger as they slowly cut and basted, then she resumed: "I have tried and tried, but I cannot think of a name for her. Can you tell me a pretty name for her, Mary?" "Would you like to call her Golden?" asked the girl, feeling as if the sound of her own name would be a relief in this new, strange atmosphere. "Golden! what a pretty name," said the child. "I like that. I will call Dollie by that name. I shall be Golden--Golden Chesleigh," she added, after a minute's thought.