was born off kicking and
howling; Bessie looked as if she were being punished herself, Mrs.
Stokes stood confounded, Mrs. Betts turned red. Only Miss Burleigh
seemed unaffected, and inquired simply whose that little boy was.
"_Mine_, ma'am," replied the milliner with an emphasis that forbade
further question. But Miss Burleigh's reflective powers were awakened.

Mrs. Betts, that woman of resources and experience, standing with the
blue silk slip half dropt on the Scotch carpet at her feet, reverted to
the interrupted business of the hour as if there had been no break. "And
if, when it comes to dressing this evening at Lady Angleby's, there's
not a thing that fits?" she bitterly suggested.

"I will answer for it that everything fits," said Miss Jocund,
recovering herself with more effort. "I have worked on true principles.
But"--with a persuasive inclination towards Bessie--"if Miss Fairfax
will condescend to inspect my productions, she will gratify me and
herself also."

As she spoke Miss Jocund threw open the door of an adjoining room, where
the said productions were elaborately laid out, and Mrs. Stokes ran in
to have the first view. Miss Burleigh followed. Bessie, with a rather
unworthy distrust, refused to advance beyond the doorway; but, looking
in, she beheld clouds upon clouds of blue and white puffery, tulle and
tarletan, and shining breadths of silk of the same delicate hues, with
fans, gloves, bows, wreaths, shoes, ribbons, sashes, laces--a portentous
confusion. After a few seconds of disturbed contemplation, during which
she was lending an ear to the remote shrieks of that darling boy, she
said--and surely it was provoking!--"The half would be better than the
whole. I am sorry for you, Mrs. Betts, if you are to have all those
works of art on your mind till they are worn out."

"Indeed, miss, if you don't show more feeling, my mind will give way,"
retorted Mrs. Betts. "It is the first time in my long experience that
ever a young lady so set me at defiance as to refuse to try on new
dresses. And all one's credit at stake upon her appearance! In a great
house like Brentwood, too!"

Those piercing cries continued to rise higher and higher. Miss Jocund,
with a vexed exclamation, dropped some piece of finery on which she was
beginning to dilate, and vanished by another door. In a minute the noise
was redoubled with a passionate intensity. Bessie's eyes filled; she
knew that old-fashioned discipline was being