ress. Sarah had put the best black silks on the bed in each
room, but for the lighter touches of the toilette the sisters were their
own judges. Miss Deborah must decide what laces she should wear, and long
did Miss Ruth stand at her dressing-table, wondering whether to pin the
pale lavender ribbon at her throat or the silver-gray one.

Miss Deborah was dressed first. She wore a miniature of her
great-grandfather as a pin, and her little fingers were covered with
rings, in strange old-fashioned settings. Her small figure had an unusual
dignity in the lustrous silk, which was turned away at the neck, and
filled with point-lace that looked like frosted cobwebs. The sleeves of
her gown were full, and gathered into a wristband over point-lace ruffles
which almost hid her little hands, folded primly in front of her. "Little
bishops" Miss Deborah called these sleeves, and she was apt to say that,
for her part, she thought a closely fitting sleeve was hardly modest. Her
full skirt rustled, as, holding herself very straight, she came into her
sister's room, that they might go down together.

Miss Ruth was still in her gray linsey-woolsey petticoat, short enough to
show her trim ankles in their black open-worked silk stockings. She stood
with one hand resting on the open drawer of her bureau, and in the other
the two soft bits of ribbon, that held the faint fragrance of rose leaves
which clung to all her possessions. Miss Ruth would never have confessed
it, but she was thinking that Mr. Forsythe was a very genteel young man,
and she wished she knew which ribbon would be more becoming.

"Ruth!" said Miss Deborah, in majestic disapproval.

The younger sister gave a little jump of fright, and dropped the ribbons
hastily, as though she feared Miss Deborah had detected her thoughts.
"I--I'll be ready directly, sister."

"I hope so, indeed," said Miss Deborah severely, and moved with
deliberate dignity from the room, while Miss Ruth, much fluttered, took
her dress from the high bedstead, which had four cherry-wood posts,
carved in alternate balloons and disks, and a striped dimity valance.

She still realized the importance of the right ribbon, and the
responsibility of choice oppressed her; but it was too late for any
further thought. She shut her eyes tight, and, with a trembling little
hand, picked up the first one she touched. Satisfied, since Fate so
decided it, that gray was the right color, she pinned it at her throat
with