figured garment was sufficient in itself to give her an unusual
appearance; but there was a more startling reason.

Miss Lucinda's hair, hitherto a pale drab smoothly drawn into a braided
coil at the back, had undergone a startling metamorphosis. It was
Floss's suggestion that Miss Lucinda wash it in "Golden Glow," a
preparation guaranteed to restore luster and beauty to faded locks. Miss
Lucinda had been over-zealous, and the result was that of copper in
sunshine.

These outward manifestations, however, were insignificant compared with
the evidences of Miss Lucinda's inner guilt. She was taking the keenest
interest in the manicure's progress, only lifting her eyes occasionally
to survey herself with satisfaction in the mirror opposite.

At first her sense of propriety had been deeply offended by her changed
appearance. She wept so bitterly that the girls, seeking to console her,
had overdone the matter.

"I never thought you _could_ look so pretty," Floss had declared; "you
look ten years younger. It makes your eyes brighter and your skin
clearer. Of course this awfully bright color will wear off, and then it
will be just dear."

Miss Lucinda began to feel better; she even allowed May to arrange her
changed locks in a modest pompadour.

The week she had spent in New York was a riotous round of dissipation.
May's fiance had prepared a whirlwind of pleasures, and Miss Lucinda was
caught up and revolved at a pace that made her dizzy. Dances, dinners,
plays, roof-gardens, coaching parties, were all held together by a line
of candy, telegrams, and roses.

There was only one time in the day when Miss Lucinda came down to earth.
Every evening, no matter how exhausted she might he from the frivolities
of the day, she conscientiously penned an affectionate letter to her
celestial affinity, expressing her undying devotion, and incidentally
mentioning the health and doings of her brother's family. These she sent
under separate cover to her brother to be mailed.

Her conscience assured her that the reckoning would come, that sooner or
later she would face the bar of justice and receive the verdict of
guilty; but while one day of grace remained, she would still "in the
fire of spring, her winter garments of repentance fling."

As the manicure put the finishing touch to her nails, Floss came rushing
in:

"Hurry up, Miss Lucy dear! Dick Benson has just 'phoned that he is going
to take us for a farewell frolic. We leave he