ssage. "I knew
he'd rise to it; I knew he would. Mother, which is the most fashionable
shop in London?"

"For what, my dear?"

"For an up-to-date costume. I must go at once and be rigged up. You had
better order a hansom--never mind the extravagance--it will be untold
torture, but it is a promise, and it must be done. Annie, love, you are
exquisite on the subject of dress; come and see Antonia made
fashionable."

"Yes, go with her, Annie," said Mrs. Bernard Temple. "I cannot imagine
what this queer thing portends, but anything to make Antonia look like
an ordinary girl I willingly agree to. Don't be extravagant, my love,
for my purse is not too heavy; but anything under ten pounds I will
willingly spend to make you presentable."

"It's appalling to think of the waste of money," said Antonia. "Oh, what
would not ten pounds do in the cause of Art? But a promise is a promise.
Come along, Annie, we'll go to Regent Street and choose."

Five minutes later, the two girls set off. Antonia's face was wreathed
with wonderful smiles, but she was mute as to the subject of her
thoughts, even to Annie.

"I suppose I must have a respectable hat," she said, suddenly; "and I
suppose it must sit in the correct way on my head; therefore, the first
thing is to go to a hairdresser's. I must be fringed, and curled, and
frizzed."

"Oh, Antonia, no, no;" said Annie. "Your beautiful hair--it would be a
sin to put a pair of scissors near it."

"A promise is a promise," said Antonia. "Which is the best hairdresser?"

They stopped at one in Bond Street, and half an hour later Antonia left
the shop, very stiff about the head and red about the face.

"The hairpins are sticking into me all over," she gasped, "and the
weight of the fringe is like a furnace on my forehead; but never mind."

"It isn't at all becoming either," said Annie.

Antonia looked at her with large eyes of reproach.

"Do you think I _want_ it to be becoming?" she said. "That would be the
final straw."

The fashionable dress was not only bought, but put on, and Mrs. Bernard
Temple scarcely knew her daughter when she saw her back again.

"I'm in misery," said Antonia; "but a promise is a promise. My dear
mother, when you are married to Sir John, that dear, dear old man, you
need not expect to see me often at the Grange."

"I really do not see, Antonia, why you should speak of your future
father as so very old."

"He's old to me," said Antonia. "I always speak o