Mrs.Wilton and Miss Pamela have always been very nice to me, but I have never loved them.
I could never seem to get at enough of them to love." "You had better put on that now," said Sylvia, indicating the fluffy mass on the bed.

"I'll help you." "I don't like to trouble you," Rose said, almost pitifully, but she stood still while Sylvia, again with that odd sensation of delight, slipped over the young head a lace-trimmed petticoat, and fastened it, and then the tea-gown.

The older woman dressed the girl with exactly the same sensations that she might have experienced in dressing her own baby for the first time.

When the toilet was completed she viewed the result, however, with something that savored of disapproval.
Rose, after looking in the glass at her young beauty in its setting of lace and silk, looked into Sylvia's face for the admiration which she felt sure of seeing there, and shrank.

"What is the matter?
Don't I look nice ?" she faltered.
Sylvia looked critically at the sleeves of the tea-gown, which were mere puffs of snowy lace, streaming with narrow ribbons, reaching to the elbow.