other embellishments, too, for the day—a row of amber beade which Professor Joblis had pronounced to be very fine, and probably Egyptian, and which exactly matched the yellow facings of the blue serge; a pink coral brooch, a malachite cross, and a large pin for fastening flowers, from the head of which depended a solid silver pig. Aunt Cathie, whether she had flowers or not, was accustomed to wear this pinned to the front of her dress. People said it was so quaint, and it made a good opening for conversation.
Aunt Cathie came down rather late to lunch, feeling she had spent a thoroughly delightful though very strenuous morning. At intervals it had occurred to her whether it was right to think so much about dress, but, on the whole, she believed her busy hours to have been justified, for since Lucia had ascended into the ranks of those whose dresses formed illustrations for sixpenny papers, and had asked Cathie to join her there, it was clear that for Lucia's sake, as well as her own, she must appear in suitable apparel. It would never do if Lucia had cause to be ashamed of her shabbiness. But though much had been done, much still remained to do. Hats, gloves, boots, jackets, all required thought and inspection. Cathie saw that the eight days that would still elapse before she started would be none too many for all that had got to be crammed into them.
On coming down she found Elizabeth waiting for her in a most sarcastic mood. The excitement of "Empress" coming out had apparently kept her awake, and when she asked Cathie if there was anything of interest in the papers, it soon came out that Cathie's absorption in dress had prevented her from even glancing at them.
Elizabeth, having ferreted out these frivolous secrets, sat for a while silently thinking out a comment.
"All I beg you, Cathie," she said at last, "is not to go and make a guy of yourself. A plain grey dress for the day and your high black satin for evening would be far more suitable than puce silks. And do you propose to wear pearls with puce?"
Cathie could not be daunted to-day.
"No," she said, "my amethysts will go with the puce. The pearls will go with the grey."
Then she did what was rare with her: she made an appeal to her sister.
