The only part of the equipment not of domestic handiwork was the structure on the head.  The Carminster hairdresser had been making his rounds since daylight, taking his most distinguished customers last; and as the Misses Delavie were not high on the roll, Harriet and Aurelia had been under his hands at nine A.M.  From that time till three, when the coach called for them, they had sat captive on low stools under a tent of table-cloth over tall chair-backs to keep the dust out of the frosted edifice constructed out of their rich dark hair, of the peculiar tint then called mouse-colour.  Betty had refused to submit to this durance.  “What sort of dinner would be on my father’s table-cloth if I were to sit under one all day?” said she in answer to Harriet’s representation of the fitness of things.  “La, my dear, what matters it what an old scarecrow like me puts on?”

Old maidenhood set in much earlier in those days than at present; the sisters acquiesced, and Betty had run about as usual all the morning in her mob-cap, and chintz gown tucked through her pocket-holes, and only at the last submitted her head to the manipulations of Corporal Palmer, who daily powdered his master’s wig.

Strange and unnatural as was the whitening of the hair, it was effective in enhancing the beauty of Aurelia’s dark arched brows, the soft brilliance of her large velvety brown eyes, and the exquisite carnation and white of her colouring.  Her features were delicately chiselled, and her face had that peculiar fresh, innocent, soft, untouched bloom and undisturbed repose which form the special charm and glory of the first dawn of womanhood.  Her little head was well poised on a slender neck, just now curving a little to one side with the fatigue of the hours during which it had sustained her headgear.  This consisted of a tiny flat hat, fastened on by long pins, and adorned by a cluster of campanulas like those on her dress, with a similar blue butterfly on an invisible wire above them, the dainty handiwork of Harriet.

The inquiry about conquests was a matter of course after a young lady’s first party, but Aurelia looked too childish for it, and Betty made haste to reply.

“Aurelia was a very good girl.  No one could have curtsied or bridled more prettily when we paid our respects to my Lady Herries and Mrs. Churchill, and the Dean highly commended her dancing.”

“You danced?  Fine doings!  I thought you were merely invited to look on at the game at bowls.  Who had the best of the match?”

“The first game was won by Canon Boltby, the second by the Dean,” said Betty; “but when they would have played the conqueror, Lady Herries interfered and said the gentlemen had kept the field long enough, and now it was our turn.  So a cow was driven on the bowling-green, with a bell round her neck and pink ribbons on her horns.”

“A cow!  What will they have next?”

“They say ’tis all the mode in London,” interposed Harriet.