"You have done with that servant's gown for good. I will bring you one
in a few minutes."
In half an hour Mrs. Conway came down in a pretty morning dress of
Mrs. Withers'. Mabel had that moment made her appearance in the
breakfast-room. She had returned only a week before from her stay at
Bath, having positively mutinied against the proposal that she should
stay there for another six months. She started at the entry of a
stranger.
"Don't you know me, Mabel?" Mrs. Conway said, holding out her hand.
"Why--why--" Mabel exclaimed, "it's Mrs. Conway. When did you come,
and what have you been doing to yourself? Why, your hair is quite a
different color! What does it all mean, mamma?" she asked in
bewilderment.
"Mrs. Conway came last night, Mabel, after you were in bed."
"But you didn't tell me she was coming, mamma."
"We didn't know ourselves, dear; she arrived quite unexpectedly."
"And--" and Mabel stopped.
"And I have got on one of your mamma's dresses," Mrs. Conway laughed,
interpreting Mabel's look of surprise. "Yes, dear, and as you say, I
have dyed my hair."
"But why, Mrs. Conway? It was such a pretty color before."
"And it will be again some day, I hope, for I am not going to dye it
any more."
"I am glad of that," Mabel said frankly; "for you look quite different
somehow. But why did you do it? and why--Is there anything the matter,
Mrs.
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