g,
"Behold!" bowed splendidly to the spectators, and without waiting for
criticism or suggestion, took his napoleon and went his way. All that
day the work of his skill was sacredly guarded, and the custodian of the
treasure went about with her head on her shoulders, as if it had been
temporarily placed in her keeping, and were something she was not at all
used to taking care of. More than once Mrs. Elmore had to warn her
against sinister accidents. "Remember, Lily," she said, "that if
anything _did_ happen, NOTHING could be done to save you!" In spite of
himself Elmore shared these anxieties, and in the depths of his wonted
studies he found himself pursued and harassed by vague apprehensions,
which upon analysis proved to be fears for Miss Lily's hair. It was a
great moment when the robe came home--rather late--from the
dressmaker's, and was put on over Lily's head; but from this thrilling
rite Elmore was of course excluded, and only knew of it afterwards by
hearsay. He did not see her till she came out just before Hoskins
arrived to fetch her away, when she appeared radiantly perfect in her
dress, and in the air with which she meant to carry it off. At Mrs.
Elmore's direction she paraded dazzlingly up and down the room a number
of times, bending over to see how her dress hung, as she walked. Mrs.
Elmore, with her head on one side, scrutinized her in every detail, and
Elmore regarded her young beauty and delight with a pride as innocent as
her own. A dim regret, evaporating in a long sigh, which made the others
laugh, recalled him to himself, as the bell rang and Hoskins appeared.
He was received in a preconcerted silence, and he looked from one to the
other with his queer, knowing smile, and took in the whole affair
without a word.

"Isn't it a pretty idea?" said Mrs. Elmore. "Studied from an antique
bas-relief, or just the same as an antique,--full of the anguish and the
repose of the Laocooen."

"Mrs. Elmore," said the sculptor, "you're too many for me. I reckon the
procession had better start before I make a fool of myself. Well!" This
was all Hoskins could say; but it sufficed. The ladies declared
afterwards that if he had added a word more, it would have spoiled it.
They had expected him to go to the ball in the character of a miner
perhaps, or in that of a trapper of the great plains; but he had chosen
to appear more naturally as a courtier of the time of Louis XIV. "When
you go in for a disguise," he explaine