each one more fascinating than the last. Mellicent sat down
on one of the centre couches and gave herself up to despair.

"My sleeves aren't right, and my neck isn't right, and my back isn't
right! My skirt sticks out where it should be flat, and is flat where
it ought to stick out. My hat looks like the ark, and my gloves are too
big. I ought to be superior like Esther, and not care a bit, but I
_do_. I care frightfully. I feel a worm, and as it I'd like to crawl
away and hide myself out of sight,"--and Mellicent's fair face clouded
over with an expression of such hopeless melancholy, that Peggy,
catching sight of it, came forward instantly to discover the reason.

"Tired?" she cried cheerily. "Never mind, we won't be long now, and
then we'll drive home, and you shall be tucked up in bed, and have a
comfy rest. Sight-seeing _is_ tiring... Which do you like best?"

"The blue, I think, with the lace edgings. The body is so sweet, with
all the tiny, lovely little tucks, and the colour would suit my hair,"
said Mellicent plaintively, all unconscious of the open-eyed wonder with
which she was regarded.

"What has your hair to do with it, and how _could_ a body be covered
with tucks? You are sleepy, dear, and didn't hear what I said. I asked
what picture you liked best."

"Oh-h, picture! I thought you meant dresses. I was thinking about the
dresses--"

"Mellicent Asplin, I'm shocked at you! You remind me of the visitor to
Paris who was asked how she liked the Louvre, and replied that the Bon
Marche was cheaper for ribbons. To think that you could sit opposite
some of the finest pictures of the year, and find more enjoyment in
looking at frocks."

"I haven't enjoyed it at all. I've disenjoyed it horribly. You
wouldn't like it yourself, if you saw seven hundred and fifty girls, and
each one looked seven hundred times nicer than you did yourself. I
detest them all, but I hate the blue one worst! Didn't you see her,
Peggy--pale, _pale_ blue, with white lace and--"

"Poor old Mill. Come along, dear, we'll go back to the hotel, and not
worry about them any more. You shall come straight to my room, and I'll
give you a tonic that will do you good."

"I hate tonics. They taste like rusty spoons. I'm quite well, and
don't want it."

"We'll see about that. It's a new brand, warranted to be especially
efficacious in the case of young females. It isn't in the least like a
rusty spoon, and exercises