umble friend and servant,

"RAFFAELLO CELLINI."

I handed it to Amy, who was evidently burning with inquisitiveness to
know its contents.

"Didn't I say he was a queer young man?" she exclaimed, as she perused
the missive attentively. "This is only his way of saying that he means
to send you some flowers himself. But what puzzles me is to think how
he could possibly know you were going to make any special 'toilette'
this evening. It is really very mysterious when I come to think of it,
for Madame Didier said plainly that she would not ask Cellini to the
dance till she saw him at the table d'hote to-night."

"Perhaps Alphonse has told him all about it," I suggested.

My friend's countenance brightened.

"Of course! That is it; and Mr. Cellini takes it for granted that a
girl of your age would not be likely to refuse a dance. Still there is
something odd about it, too. By-the-bye, I forgot to ask you how the
picture got on?"

"Oh, very well, I believe," I replied evasively. "Signor Cellini only
made a slight outline sketch as a beginning."

"And was it like you?--a really good resemblance?"

"I really did not examine it closely enough to be able to judge."

"What a demure young person you are!" laughed Mrs. Everard. "Now, _I_
should have rushed straight up to the easel and examined every line of
what he was doing. You are a model of discretion, really! I shan't be
anxious about leaving you alone any more. But about your dress for
to-night. Let me see it, there's a good girl."

I opened my trunk and took out a robe of ivory-tinted crepe. It was
made with almost severe simplicity, and was unadorned, save by a soft
ruffle of old Mechlin lace round the neck and sleeves. Amy examined it
critically.

"Now, you would have looked perfectly ghastly in this last night, when
you were as pale and hollow-eyed as a sick nun; but to-night," and she
raised her eyes to my face, "I believe you will do. Don't you want the
bodice cut lower?"

"No, thanks!" I said, smiling. "I will leave that to the portly
dowagers--they will expose neck enough for half-a-dozen other women."

My friend laughed.

"Do as you like," she returned; "only I see your gown has short
sleeves, and I thought you might like a square neck instead of that
little simple Greek round. But perhaps it's better as it is. The stuff
is lovely; where did you get it?"

"At one of the London emporiums of Eastern art," I answered. "My dear,
your tea is getting c