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.

When the choosing of the dresses had come to an end there were stockings and shoes and boots to be purchased, and one or two very dainty little jackets, and then there was a wealth of lovely chinchilla fur, and a little toque to match, and afterwards hats—hats to match every costume; in addition to which there was a very big white hat with a huge ostrich plume, and a black hat with a plume nearly as big. Gloves were bestowed upon me by the dozen. I felt giddy, and could scarcely at last take the slightest interest in my own wardrobe. Suddenly Lady Helen looked at her watch, uttered an exclamation, and said:

"Oh, dear me! It is ten minutes past one! What am I to do? I must not fail your father at the Savoy. Do you think, child, if I put you into a hansom, you could drive to the house at Prince's Gate? I would give all directions to the driver."

"I am sure I could," I answered.

I was not at all afraid of London, knowing nothing of its dangers.

"Then that is much the best thing to do," said Lady Helen. She turned to a man who was a sort of porter at the big shop, and gave him exact orders what he was to do and what he was to say. A hansom was called, the cabman was paid by Lady Helen herself, and at last I was off and alone.

I was glad of this. I had a great sense of relief when that patched-up, faded, and yet still beautiful face was no longer near me. When I reached the house at Prince's Gate I felt rested and refreshed. There was a servant in very smart livery standing in the hall, and of him I ventured to inquire if Lady Carrington were at home.

"Is your name, madam, Miss Heather Grayson?" inquired the man.

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