“Things have changed since your day, Aunt, and it takes time to get used to new ways. But you, Jessie, surely like this costume better than the dowdy things Rose has been wearing all summer. Now, be honest, and own you do,” said Mrs. Clara, bent on being praised for her work.

“Well, dear to be quite honest, then, I think it is frightful,” answered Mrs. Jessie, with a candour that caused revolving Rose to stop in dismay.

“Hear, hear,” cried a deep voice, and with a general start the ladies became aware that the enemy was among them.

Rose blushed up to her hat brim, and stood, looking, as she felt, like a fool, while Mrs. Clara hastened to explain.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to like it, Alec, but I don’t consider you a judge of what is proper and becoming for a young lady. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of providing a pretty street suit for Rose. She need not wear it if you object, for I know we promised to let you do what you liked with the poor dear for a year.”

“It is a street costume, is it?” asked the Doctor, mildly. “Do you know, I never should have guessed that it was meant for winter weather and brisk locomotion. Take a turn, Rosy, and let me see all its beauties and advantages.”

Rose tried to walk off with her usual free tread, but the under-skirt got in her way, the over-skirt was so tight she could not take a long step, and her boots made it impossible to carry herself perfectly erect.

“I haven’t got used to it yet,” she said, petulantly, kicking at her train, as she turned to toddle back again.

“Suppose a mad dog or a runaway horse was after you, could you get out of the way without upsetting, Colonel,” asked the Doctor, with a twinkle in the eyes that were fixed on the rakish hat.

“Don’t think I could, but I’ll try,” and Rose made a rush across the room. Her boot-heels caught on a rug, several strings broke, her hat tipped over her eyes, and she plunged promiscuously into a chair, where she sat laughing so infectiously that all but Mrs. Clara joined in her mirth.

“I should say that a walking suit in which one could not walk, and a winter suit which exposes the throat, head, and feet to cold and damp, was rather a failure, Clara, especially as it has no beauty to reconcile one to its utter unfitness,” said Dr. Alec, as he helped Rose undo her veil, adding, in a low tone, “Nice thing for the eyes; you’ll soon see spots when it’s off as well as when it’s on, and, by and by, be a case for an oculist.”

“No beauty!” cried Mrs. Clara, warmly, “Now, that is just a man’s blindness. This is the best of silk and camel’s hair, real ostrich feathers, and an expensive ermine muff. What could be in better taste, or more proper for a young girl?”

“I’ll shew you, if Rose will go to her room and oblige me by putting on what she finds there,” answered the Doctor, with unexpected readiness.

“Alec, if it is a Bloomer, I shall protest. I’ve been expecting it, but I know I cannot bear to see that pretty child sacrificed to your wild ideas of health. Tell me it isn’t a Bloomer!” and Mrs. Clara clasped her hands imploringly.

“It is not.”

“Thank Heaven!” and she resigned herself with a sigh of relief, adding plaintively, “I did hope you’d accept my suit, for poor Rose has been afflicted with frightful clothes long enough to spoil the taste of any girl.”