The long, bewildering, beautiful day was over and the three candidates
for the coming competition were being dressed for the occasion.

The dressing took place in one immense room where the girls were
afterwards to sleep, and the assistants at the dressing were no less
people than Miss Helen Dartmoor, Mrs. Aylmer the great, and Mrs. Aylmer
the less.

Mrs. Aylmer the great and Mrs. Aylmer the less fussed round Florence,
fussed round her to such an extraordinary degree that she felt a mad
desire to thrust them both out of the room.

The very beautiful dress which Aunt Susan had purchased for Florence in
London was, after all, not to be used on this occasion, for Sir John
had given forth his mandate that each of the three candidates was to be
dressed exactly alike, and as this was his supreme wish he further said
that he himself would purchase the dresses for the occasion.

These were made in Greek style, and were long, flowing, and simple.
The material was the finest white cashmere edged with swansdown, and
each girl had clasped round her waist a belt of massive silver, also
Sir John's present. Their hair was unbound and hung down their backs,
being kept in its place on the head by a narrow fillet of silver.

Nothing could be simpler and yet more graceful than the dress, the long
flowing sleeves falling away from the elbow and showing the young
molded arms distinctly.

It so happened that no dress could suit Kitty better, and doubtless Sir
John had an eye to the appearance of his favorite in such a robe when
he ordered it.

Florence also looked very well in her Greek costume; and even Mary
Bateman seemed to acquire added grace and dignity when she put on the
pretty classical robe. The girls wore sandals on their feet, and
altogether nothing could be choicer and prettier than the dresses which
Sir John had devised for them.

Little Mrs. Aylmer almost hopped round Florence as she was being
attired in her festive robe.

"I am sure," she said, "I can guess the reason why; I have been
wondering over it all day, and at last the solution has come to me.
Listen, my dear Miss Bateman; listen, Miss Sharston; Susan, you cannot
prevent my speaking. I see, Miss Dartmoor, you are thinking me a
little fool, but I have guessed at the solution. It is because in the
moment of triumph the brow of the young victor--victress, don't you
say? no, of course, victor--will be crowned with a laurel wreath. Ah,
how sweet! Florenc