Miss Barry's eyes wore their extracting expression. She wondered what form of intoxicant Linda had been administering now. The Scylla of the chocolate gorge had passed safely. What was this Charybdis that threatened?
"Well?" said Miss Barry suggestively.
"Well," returned the "help," dancing defiance in the round eyes which returned her employer's regard brazenly.
"Don't you be sassy, Blanche Aurora," warned Miss Barry.
"I ain't," answered the other; and as her mistress watched her radiant countenance, she had her first doubt as to whether Blanche Aurora was really so very homely. There were such things as ugly ducklings who outwitted their neighbors. "Has Miss Linda been giving you more candy?"
"No. Clo'es," returned the other in such a high key of ecstasy that Miss Barry recoiled and winked.
"How many times must I tell you that I'm not deaf!" she said sternly. "What kind of clothes?"
"Pink—and blue—and not worn out," was the blissful reply.
"Absurd. I can't imagine my niece having anything sensible and durable enough for a little girl."
"They ain't," declared Blanche Aurora, her eyes seeing visions. "They ain't sensible—nor durable—nor serviceable." Her smile was near-seraphic.