“What a little foot,” thought Barbara.  “I believe it was smaller than mine.”

She took off her low shoe, and, like Cinderella, tried on the slipper.  She was much surprised to find that it fitted, though the high heels felt queer.  Her own shoe was more comfortable, and so she changed again, though she had quite made up her mind to wear the slippers sometime.

[Sidenote:  Treasured Finery]

In the trunk, too, she found a white bonnet that she tried on, but without satisfaction, as there was no mirror in the attic.  This one trunk evidently contained the finery for which Miriam had not been able to find use.

One by one, Barbara took out the garments, which were all of silk or linen—­there was nothing there for the moths.  The long bridal veil of rose point, that Barbara had sternly refused to sell, was yellow, too, but none the less lovely.  There was a gold scent-bottle set with discoloured pearls, an amethyst brooch which no one would buy because it had three small gold tassels hanging from it, and a lace fan with tortoise-shell sticks, inlaid with mother-of-pearl.  A thrifty woman at the hotel had once offered two dollars for the fan, but Barbara had kept it, as she was sure it was worth more.

Down in the bottom of the trunk was an inlaid box that she did not remember having seen before.  She slid back the cover and found a lace handkerchief, a broken cuff-button, a gold locket enamelled with black, a long fan-chain of gold, set with amethysts, a small gold-framed mirror evidently meant to be carried in a purse or hand-bag, a high shell comb inlaid with gold and set with amethysts, and ten of the dozen large, heavy gold hairpins which Ambrose North, in an extravagant mood, had ordered made for the shining golden braids of his girl-wife.

[Sidenote:  A Photograph]

On the bottom of the box, face down, was a photograph.  Barbara took it out, wonderingly, and started in amazement as her own face looked back at her.  On the back was written, in the same clear hand as the letter:  “For my son, or daughter.  Constance North.”  Below was the date—­just a month before Barbara was born.

The heavy hair, in the picture, was braided and wound around the shapely head.  The high comb, the same that Barbara had just taken out of the box, added a finishing touch.  Around the slender neck and fair, smooth shoulders fell the Duchess lace that trimmed the brocade gown.  The amethyst brooch, with two of the three tassels plainly showing, was pinned into the lace on the left side, half-way to the shoulder.

But it was the face that interested Barbara most, as it was the counterpart of her own.  There was the same broad, low forehead, the large, deep eyes with long lashes, the straight little nose, and the tender, girlish mouth with its short upper lip, and the same firm, round, dimpled chin.  Even the expression was almost the same, but in Constance’s deep eyes was a certain wistfulness that the faint smile of her mouth could not wholly deny.