She was dressing herself hastily, but with care, in her very best attire.

She stood before the glass braiding and arranging her dark glossy hair, that luxuriant ornament of her bright, rosy face; then she put on the blossom white lace habit-shirt and striped pink and drab silk dress, her kind father's last gift, and the smart shawl and pink bonnet were duly arranged afterwards.

Whatever the early visit Netta was about to make, it was evidently a premeditated one.

When the attire was quite complete, and she had surveyed herself in the glass, she suddenly paused and looked around her.

In a moment she was putting her room to rights, and pushing stray articles of dress into drawers, until all was quite neat; then she paused again, and glanced at a letter that was lying on her little dressing-table.