“Aunt Mary thought I had all I should want for the winter,” said Lucy, colouring, for it was a point on which she was sensitive, not wishing herself to spend any more on her dress than was absolutely necessary, and desiring, if possible, not to increase her uncle’s expenditure on her account.

“Well, we shall see,” said Mrs. Brooke.  “But you know you cannot dress here exactly as you did at Ashleigh, and I want you to look as well as your cousins.”

Lucy felt rather dismayed at the idea of being expected to wear such stylish attire; and she could have cried, as one after another of the articles on which she and Mrs. Steele had bestowed so much pains was pronounced by Mrs. Brooke and Ada “quite out of date” and “not fit to be seen.”

Mrs. Brooke, apart from her really kind intentions towards her sister’s orphan daughter, was determined that Lucy, who was to be Stella’s constant companion, should not, by shabby or old-fashioned dress, disgrace the family in the eyes of her critical fashionable associates; so it was determined, without reference to Lucy, that Ada and Sophy should take her out forthwith on a shopping excursion, to provide her with what Mrs. Brooke considered essential for her creditable appearance as a member of her family.

After her first uncomfortable feeling had worn off, Lucy really enjoyed her expedition, everything—­the busy streets, the crowded buildings, the rattling carts and carriages; above all, the gaily-decorated shop windows—­having so much of the charm of novelty for a country girl.  The windows of the print-shops and book-stores in particular she thought so attractive, that she wondered how the hurrying passers-by could go on their way without even a glance at their treasures.

The shopping was easily accomplished under Ada’s experienced superintendence, and might have been accomplished much more quickly, Lucy thought, had it not been that her cousins would spend so much time in looking over articles which they had no intention of buying, thereby, she thought, putting the obliging shopmen to an immense deal of trouble, and sadly wasting their own morning.  But neither of her companions had much sense of the value of time, having no higher aim in living than that of passing it as pleasantly as possible.

At last the important business was concluded, just in time for them to get home for lunch.  Lucy felt very tired after her unwonted expedition over the hard city streets, with their bewildering noise and confusion, and was glad to get away as soon as possible to rest.  She soon fell asleep, and when she awoke she found Amy sitting quietly beside her, playing with her doll.

“Won’t you look at my doll, Cousin Lucy?” she said.  “I got her on my birthday.  Her name is Lucy, after you.”

“After me?” said Lucy, surprised.  “Did you call her after me before I came?”

“Yes,” replied Amy timidly; “for Stella said you were nice, and I should love you.”