"You ask me rather a difficult question, Miss Hunt," she said then. "This is Thursday; the ball is on Monday. I am at my wits' end, as it is, to supply a dress to Miss Katherine Hepworth. Do you know Miss Hepworth, Miss Hunt?"
"No—never heard of her," said Katherine Hunt, yawning as she spoke. "Now, my dear, good creature," she continued, rising, "will you give me a dress? Yes, or no."
"I shall do my utmost to accommodate you, Miss Hunt; but it is only at the risk of offending other customers."
"I will pay you anything in reason," said the girl. "I am so delighted to get this invitation that I shall not rest unless I am one of the stars of the evening. Understand that money is no matter. And now, what can you do for me?"
Madame left the room, returning again with fashion-books and yards of brocade, velvet, and other rich materials. Katherine Hunt became absorbed in the vital question of what she was to wear. She was a girl with a great deal of directness of manner; she always knew her own mind, and on this occasion was not long in making her selection. As the ball was to be a fancy one, she would appear as Anne Boleyn. Madame applauded the idea, saying that the dress would suit the stately figure and bold, bright eyes of the young lady.
"It must be done absolutely correctly," said the girl. "I wish you would send round to Fortescue's now for a book of costumes of the time of Henry the Eighth. I know he happens to have them. I will wait until it comes. We must decide all the particulars immediately."
Madame rang her bell, and an attendant entered the room.
"Will you pay for the book?" she said, turning to the girl.
"Oh yes, certainly." And then Miss Hunt dived her hand into her pocket to fetch out her purse.
Madame looked at her with intense curiosity. The pupils of her own eyes dilated when Katherine Hunt took out a pocket-handkerchief, shook it, and then gazed up at madame with an expression of despair.