you get it from? Where did you buy it?"

Now Susy had really no intention of making a secret with regard to the
blouse. She meant to tell her mother frankly that it was a present from
Miss Kathleen O'Hara, but Mrs. Hopkins's manner and words put the little
girl into a passion, and she was determined now not to say a word.

"It is my secret," she said. "I won't tell you how I got it, nor who
gave it to me. And I won't take it off."

Just then there were voices, and Aunt Church called out:

"Where are you, Mary Hopkins? Why don't you show yourself? Fussing over
fine living, I suppose. Oh, there is your daughter. My word! Fine
feathers make fine birds.--Come over and speak to me, my dear, and help
me out of this chair. Now then, give me your hand. Be quick!"

Susy put out her hand and helped Mrs. Church as well as she could out of
the bath-chair. Tom winked when he saw the splendid apparition; then he
stuck his tongue into his cheek, and coming close to his sister, he
whispered:

"Wherever did you get that toggery?"

"That's nothing to you," said Susy.

Mrs. Church glanced over her shoulder and looked solemnly at Susy.

"It's my opinion," she said, speaking in a slow, emphatic, rather awful
voice, "that you are a very, very bad little girl. You will come to no
good. Mark my words. I prophesy a bad end for you, and trouble for your
unfortunate mother. You will remember my words when the prophecy comes
true. Help me now into the parlor. I cannot stay long, but I will have a
morsel of your grand dinner before I leave."

CHAPTER XIII.

AUNT CHURCH AT DINNER AND THE CONSEQUENCES THEREOF.

When Mrs. Church was comfortably established in the easy-chair in the
little parlor, with her feet on the fender, and a nice view of the
street from the window near by--when her best widow's-cap was perched
upon her head, and her little black mitts were drawn over her delicate,
small hands--she looked around her and gave a brief sigh of
satisfaction.

"Upon my word," she said, "I'm not at all sorry I came. There's nothing
like seeing things for yourself. Most elegant damask on the table. Mary
Hopkins, where did you get that damask?"

Mrs. Hopkins, whose cheeks were flushed, and who looked considerably
worried, replied that it had been left to her by her own mother.

"My mother was a housekeeper in a nobleman's family," she said, "and she
was given that cloth and two or three more like it. I have 'em in the
linen-chest