say: 'please bring me my hat.' The one I ask for is always the right
one. It is invariably becoming and suitable, and it's the same with
everything else."

"It's a wonderful experience to go shopping with Aunt Francesca," put in
Rose. "She knows what she wants and goes straight to it, without loss of
time. Utterly regardless of fashion, for its own sake, she always
contrives to be in the mode, though I believe that if hoop skirts were
suited to her, she'd have the courage of her crinoline, and wear one."

"Let us be thankful they're not," remarked Madame. "It's almost
impossible to believe it, but they must have looked well upon some
women. Every personality makes its own demand for harmony and it is
fascinating to me to observe strange people and plan for them their
houses and clothes and belongings. You can pick out, from a crowd, the
woman who would have a crayon portrait of herself upon an easel in her
parlour, and quite properly, too, since her nature demands it. After you
are experienced, you can identify the man who eats sugar and vinegar on
lettuce, and group those who keep parrots--or are capable of it."

The seventy years sat lightly upon Madame Francesca now. Her deep eyes
shone with inward amusement, and little smiles hovered unexpectedly
about the corners of her mouth. A faint pink tint, like a faded rose,
bloomed upon her cheeks. Rose watched her with adoring eyes, and
wondered whether any man in the world, after fifteen years of close
association, could be half so delightful.

Coffee was brought into the living-room, when they went back, preceded
by Mr. Boffin, emanating the dignified satisfaction of a cat who has
supped daintily upon chicken and cream. He sat down before the fire and