d more was she wax in the hands of her
new employer. Mrs. Warren quickly took the hair-pins out of Connie's
thick plait. She let it fall down to her waist, and then she unplaited
it and brushed out the shining waves of lovely hair, and then said, with
a smile of satisfaction:

"Now, I guess there won't be anybody prettier than you to walk abroad
to-day."

"But I can't," said Connie--"I don't ever wear my 'air like that; it's
only young lydies as does that."

"Well, ain't you a lydy, and ain't I a lydy? You're going out with one,
and yer'll wear yer 'air as I please."

Connie shivered; but presently the little dark-blue cap was placed over
the masses of golden hair, the gray fur was fastened round the slender
throat, and Connie marched out with Mrs. Warren.

Mrs. Warren's own dress was in all respects the reverse of her pretty
young companion's. It consisted of a very voluminous silk cloak, which
was lined with fur, and which gave the already stout woman a most portly
appearance. On her head she wore a bonnet covered with artificial
flowers, and she enveloped her hands in an enormous muff.

"Now, off we go," said Mrs. Warren. "You'll enjoy yerself, my purty."

It is quite true that Connie did--at least, at first. This was the time
of day when, with the exception of Sundays, she was always buried from
view in the ugly warehouse. She was unaccustomed to the morning
sunshine, and she was certainly unaccustomed to the handsome streets
where Mrs. Warren conducted her.

They walked on, and soon found themselves in crowded thoroughfares. At
last they stopped before the doors of a great shop, into which crowds of
people were going.

"Oh, what a pretty girl!" said Connie to her companion.

A young girl, very like Connie herself--so like as to make the
resemblance almost extraordinary--was entering the shop, accompanied by
an old gentleman who was supporting himself by the aid of a gold-headed
stick. The girl also had golden hair. She was dressed in dark blue, and
had gray fur round her neck. But above the fur there peeped out a little
pale-blue handkerchief made of very soft silk.

"That's purty," whispered Mrs. Warren to Connie. "Yer'd like a
'andkercher like that--yer shall 'ave one. Get on in front o' me; you're
slimmer nor me; I want to push into the shop."

Connie obeyed. As she passed the fair young girl, the girl seemed to
notice the extraordinary likeness between them, for she turned and
looked at Connie an