s, and the others must have belonged to her
dead mother. For the first time in her life, Barbara was curious about
the trunks.

[Sidenote: The Old Trunk]

When she was quite rested, she went over to a small one which stood near
the window, and opened it. A faint, musty odour greeted her, but there
was no disconcerting flight of moths. Every woollen garment in the house
had long ago been used by Aunt Miriam for rugs and braided mats. She had
taken Constance's underwear for her own use when misfortune overtook
them, and there was little else left.

Barbara lifted from the trunk a gown of heavy white brocade, figured
with violets in lavender and palest green. It was yellow and faded and
the silver thread that ran through the pattern was tarnished so that it
was almost black. The skirt had a long train and around the low-cut
bodice was a deep fall of heavy Duchess lace, yellowed to the exquisite
tint of old ivory. The short sleeves were trimmed with lace of the same
pattern, but only half as wide.

"Oh," said Barbara, aloud, "how lovely!"

There was a petticoat of rustling silk, and a pair of dainty white
slippers, yellowed, too, by the slow passage of the years. Their silver
buckles were tarnished, but their high heels were as coquettish as
ever.

"What a little foot," thought Barbara. "I believe it was smaller than
mine."

She took off her low shoe, and, like Cinderella, tried on the slipper.
She was much surprised to find that it fitted, though the high heels
felt queer. Her own shoe was more comfortable, and so she changed again,
though she had quite made up her mind to wear the slippers sometime.

[Sidenote: Treasured Finery]

In the trunk, too, she found a white bonnet that she tried on, but
without satisfaction, as there was no mirror in the attic. This one
trunk evidently contained the finery for which Miriam had not been able
to find use.

One by one, Barbara took out the garments, which were all of silk or
linen--there was nothing there for the moths. The long bridal veil of
rose point, that Barbara had sternly refused to sell, was yellow, too,
but none the less lovely. There was a gold scent-bottle set with
discoloured pearls, an amethyst brooch which no one would buy because it
had three small gold tassels hanging from it, and a lace fan with
tortoise-shell sticks, inlaid with mother-of-pearl. A thrifty woman at
the hotel had once offered two dollars for the fan, but Barbara had kept
it, as she was