COMMUTER'S WIFE 153 



of time, the cutting of good cloth into more or less 

 fantastic shapes, and then pricking it full of holes 

 with a needle. 



Poor soul ! how longingly she handled the head- 

 gear, picked and puffed out the bows and flowers, 

 and laid each down with a sigh, lingering over a 

 girl's soft Alpine felt whose only decoration was a 

 band and buckle. Aunt Lot is rather pretty out- 

 side, but in a faded sort of way, as if the fire of her 

 constant and, as she thinks, righteous, indignation 

 had had its searing effect. 



She hung over one puffy little toque of mouse-gray 

 velvet with a big pink rose set squarely in front, 

 murmuring her desire to try it on, as, if it became 

 her, I might let her copy it, of course in cheaper 

 material ! An inspiration ! I immediately offered to 

 give the thing to her, promising to add strings to make 

 it bonnet-like, and to veil the brightness of the rose 

 with black tulle, all the work of a few minutes. 



She accepted the gift with alacrity that bore a 

 resemblance to pleasure, but resented the strings 

 as too heating, also the hiding of the rose, saying 

 that Jabez liked pink. 



How strange it is that the only effort of so many 

 well-meaning women to keep young is by dressing 

 in the way that most accentuates their wrinkles, con- 



