ady's maid did
her hair, and draped her in her new gray silk.

"Make just as big a fool of me, my dear, as you choose," said the
prospective bride to the fussy little girl who fluttered about her.
"It's only for a day, and I don't care."

Such patient manipulation, such sudden retirings for the study of
effects, such delicious little experiments with a curl, such shifting of
hair-pins, such dainty adjustments of ruffles and frills as were
indulged in in that little room can only be imagined by the sex familiar
with them. And then, in the midst of it all, came a scream of delight
that stopped everything. Mrs. Balfour had sent in a great box full of
the most exquisite flowers, which she had brought all the way from the
city. The youngest Miss Snow was wild with her new wealth, and there
were roses for Miss Butterworth's hair, and her throat, and a bouquet
for her hand. And after this came wonderful accessions to the
refreshment table. Cake, with Miss Butterworth's initials; tarts, marked
"Number Nine," and Charlotte de Russe, with a "B" and an "F" hopelessly
twisted together in a monogram. The most excited exclamations reached
Miss Butterworth's ears in her imprisonment:

"Goodness, gracious me!"

"If there isn't another cake as big as a flour barrel!"

"Tell your mother she's an angel. She's coming down to help us eat it, I
hope."

"Just look at this basket of little cakes! I was saying to mother this
minute that that was all we wanted."

So the good things came, and the cheerful givers went, and Miss
Butterworth took an occasional sip at her coffee, with a huge napkin at
her throat, and tears in her eyes, not drawn forth by the delicate
tortures in progress upon her person. She thought of her weary years of
service, her watchings by sick-beds, her ministry to the poor, her long
loneliness, and acknowledged to herself that her reward had come. To be
so loved and petted, and cared for, and waited upon, was payment for
every sacrifice and every service, and she felt that she and the world
were at quits.

Before the finishing touches to her toilet were given, there was a
tumult at the door. She could hear new voices. The guests were arriving.
She heard laughter and merry greetings; and still they poured in, as if
they had come in a procession. Then there was a hush, followed by the
sound of a carriage, the letting down of steps, and a universal murmur.
Jim had arrived, with Mr. and Mrs. Balfour and the boys. They