“But ladies in boxes do not wear anything,” cried Janice reasuringly.

Aunt Mary jumped.

“Not anything?”

“On their heads.”

“Oh!—­Well, then the bonnet half of me’ll be all right, but what shall I wear on the rest of me?  I don’t want to look out of fashion, you know.  My, but I wish I’d brought my Paisley shawl.  I’ve got a Paisley shawl that’s a very rare pattern.  There’s cocoanuts in the border and a twisted design of monkeys and their tails done in the center.  An’ there ain’t a moth hole in it—­not one.”

Janice looked out of the window.

“I’ve got a cameo pin, too,” continued Aunt Mary reflectively.  “My, but that’s a handsome pin, as I remember it.  It’s got Jupiter on it holdin’ a bunch of thunder and lightnin’ an’ receivin’ the news of somebody’s bein’ born—­I used to know the whole story.  But, you see, I expected to just be sittin’ by Jack’s bed and I never thought to bring any of those dress-up kind of things,” she sighed.

Janice returned to the bed side.

“Hadn’t you better begin to dress?” she howled suggestively.  “They are going to dine here before going to the theater and dinner is ordered in an hour.”

“Maybe I had,” said Aunt Mary, “but—­oh dear—­I don’t know what I will wear!” She began to emerge from the bedclothes as she spoke.

“How would my green plaid waist do?” she asked earnestly.

“I think it would be lovely,” shrieked the maid.

“Well, shake it out then,” said Aunt Mary, “it ought to be in the fashion—­ all the silk they put in the sleeves.  An’ if you’ll do my hair just as you did it yesterday—­”

“Yes, I will.”

Then the labor of the toilette began in good earnest, and three-quarters of an hour later Aunt Mary was done, and sitting by the window while Janice laced her boots.

A rap sounded at the door.

“Come in,” cried the maid.

It was Jack with a regular fagot of American Beauties.

“Well, Aunt Mary,” he cried with his customary hearty greeting.  “How!”

“How what?” asked Aunt Mary, whose knowledge of Sioux social customs had been limited by the border line of New England.

Jack laughed.  “How are you?” he asked in correction of his imperfect phrasing.  And then he handed over the rose wood.

“I’m pretty well,” said his aunt; “but, my goodness you mustn’t bring me so many presents—­you—­”

Jack stopped her words with a kiss.  “Now, Aunt Mary, don’t you scold, because you’re my company and I won’t have it.  This is my treat, and just don’t you fret.  What do you say to your roses?”

Aunt Mary looked a bit uneasy.

“They’re pretty big,” she hesitated.

“That’s the fashion,” said Jack; “the longer you can buy ’em the better the girls like it.  I tried to get you some eight feet long but they only had two of that number and I wanted the whole bunch to match—­”