The maid obeyed. Lady Frances went to the wardrobe and felt amongst skirts of different colors, different materials, and different degrees of respectability. Without exception they were all unsuitable; but presently she chose the least objectionable, an ugly drab frieze, and lifting it herself from its hook, laid it on the bed.
“Is there a bodice for this dress?” she asked of the maid.
“Yes, madam. Miss Evelyn used to wear that on the ranch. She has outgrown it rather.”
“Put it on your young mistress and let me see her.”
“I won’t wear that horrid thing!” said Evelyn.
“You will wear what I choose.”
Again Evelyn submitted. The dress was put on. It was not becoming, but was at least quiet in appearance.
“You will wear that to-day,” said her aunt. “I will myself take you into town this afternoon to get some suitable clothes.—Jasper, I wish Miss Evelyn’s present wardrobe to be neatly packed in her trunks.”
“Yes, madam.”
“No, no, Aunt Frances; you cannot mean it,” said Evelyn.