looks injured if Barbara or I, or even the footman with
coals, enters the room.

As the day goes on, there is not much to do; a new idea takes possession
of Mr. Parker's active mind.

Why should not we all be in fancy-dress to-night? Well, not all of us,
then--not his uncle, of course, nor Sir Roger, but any of us that liked.
_Trouble!_ Not a bit of it. Why, the ladies need only rouge a bit, and
put some flour on their heads, and there they are; and, as for the men,
there is a heap of old things up in the lumber-room that belonged to his
great-grandfather, and among them there is sure to be something to fit
everybody. If they do not believe him, they may come and see for
themselves.

Such is the force of a strong will, that he actually carries off the
deeply unwilling Musgrave to inspect his ancestor's wardrobe. At first
we have treated his proposal only with laughter, but he is so profoundly
in earnest about it, and dwells with such eagerness on the advantage of
the fact that not a soul among the company will recognize us--he can
answer for _himself_ at least--it is always by his _hair_ (with a laugh)
that people know _him_--that we at length begin to catch his ardor.

To tell truth, from the beginning the idea has approved itself to
Barbara and me, only that we were ashamed to say so--carrying us back in
memory as it does to the days when we dressed the Brat up in my clothes
as _me_, and took in all the maid-servants. I think, too, that I have a
little of the feeling of faint hope that inspired Balak when he showed
Balaam the Israelites from a fresh point of view. Perhaps, in carmine
cheeks and a snow-white head, I may find a little of my old favor in
Roger's eyes.

Human wills are mostly so feeble and vacillating, that if one
thorough-going determined one sticks to _any_ proposition, however
absurd, he is pretty sure to get the majority round to him in time; and
so it is in the present case. Mr. Parker succeeds in making us all,
willing and unwilling, promise to travesty ourselves. We are not to
dress till after dinner; that is over now, and we are all adorning
ourselves.

For once I am taking great pains, and--for a wonder--pleasant pains with
my toilet. It is slightly delayed by a variety of unwonted
interruptions--knocks at the door, voices of valets in interrogation,
and dialogue with my maid.

"If you please, Mr. Musgrave wants to know has Lady Tempest done with
the rouge?"

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