sky, adding pride unto faith, and manners unto
both, would smile her heart-breaking smile, shake her bandage-bowed
head, and go on starving.

"Teacher, I tells you s'cuse, I don't needs I shall eat," was her always
courteous answer. And not all Miss Bailey's tact or wiles could prevail
against it.

It was at about this time that Miss Bailey in her unofficial capacity
accepted an invitation to a costume dance. Looking through old trunks
and long-neglected shelves, she came upon a little tight-fitting
shoulder cape of prehistoric date and fashion. It was such a cape as you
can find in some of Du Maurier's drawings. It pinned the wearer's arms
to her side, it gagged her tightly around the throat, it was of velvet,
and its color was royal blue.

Constance Bailey, peering back into the dim vista of the years, could
remember the pride and happiness which she had felt when her
over-indulgent grandmother had given her, then a child of about twelve,
this gorgeous garment. She could remember how it had dwarfed and faded
the rest of her wardrobe, how she had wept to wear it upon all possible
and impossible occasions, and how tragic had been the moment when it
refused to meet across her loving breast.

Here, she thought triumphantly, was something before which the Zabrowsky
spirit would break down. It did not in any way suggest the useful,
serviceable, humiliating, charitable devotion. It was gay and festive,
palpably a gift, and Teacher, with many misgivings but some hope,
submitted it to Becky's consideration. She represented that she had
herself outgrown it, that she had no costume with which it could
appropriately be worn, that it was menaced by moths, a prey to creases,
and a responsibility under which she could no longer find peace or
security. Under the circumstances, she pleaded, would Becky relieve her
of it? And Becky was delighted, translated, enchanted. She would never
allow that cape to hang with the ordinary outdoor apparel of the other
members of the class. It rested in her desk when she was busy, and she
lulled it in her arms when she was not. Before coming into this shining
fortune she had been rather looked down upon by other members of the
class, and had avoided publicity in every possible way. She had with
chattering teeth and livid lips assured her more warmly clad classmates
that she was "all times too hot on the skin," and that her mamma
considered her Sunday coat too stylish to wear at school. But, girde