"Oh! what a pretty shawl, cousin," exclaimed Adelaide, "real India, isn't it? Come on, mamma, and all of you," she added, hurrying into the hall, "it's time we were off."
"Adelaide always wants to direct the rest of us," complained Louise, "I wish, mamma, you'd make her know her place."
"Tut, tut! remember she's three years older than you. But if you children are going to quarrel, you must stay behind," said Mr. Dinsmore, standing back to let his wife and Mildred pass out first.
"No, no, papa, that won't do, because we're to be fitted with hats and shoes," laughed the youngest of the three, putting her hand into his, "besides, I didn't quarrel."
"That's true enough, Lora," he answered, leading her down the stairs, "and in fact, I believe no one did but Louise, who is apt to be the complainer."
The drive to the milliner's was so short that Mildred thought they might as well have walked. She would have preferred it as giving her a better opportunity to see the city; but no; in that case she would have had to mortify her friends by an exhibition of her unfashionable head-gear.
The next half hour was spent in turning over ribbons, flowers and feathers, discussing styles, and trying on bonnets.
At length one was found which pleased both Mrs. Dinsmore and Mildred, but the price asked seemed to the latter extravagant.
"Do you think I ought to go so high, Aunt?" she asked in an undertone. "Is it worth it?"
"I think the price reasonable, and the hat no finer than you ought to wear," returned Mrs. Dinsmore coldly.