like it as my present for Miss Pole, as cages
were so much better made in Paris than anywhere
else. I was rather dismayed when I read
this letter, for, however pretty a cage might be,
it was something for Miss Pole's own self, and
not for her parrot, that I had intended to get.
Here had I been finding ever so many reasons
against her buying a new cap at Johnson's
fashion-show, because I thought that the present
which Mrs. Gordon was to choose for me in Paris
might turn out to be an elegant and fashionable
head-dress; a kind of cross between a turban
and a cap, as I see those from Paris mostly are;
and now I had to veer round, and advise her to
go as fast as she could, and secure Mr. Johnson's
cap before any other purchaser snatched it up.
But Miss Pole was too sharp for me.

"Why, Mary," said she, "it was only yesterday
you were running down that cap like anything.
You said, you know, that lilac was too
old a colour for me; and green too young; and
that the mixture was very unbecoming."

"Yes, I know," said I; "but I have thought
better of it. I thought about it a great deal
last night, and I think— I thought— they would
neutralise each other; and the shadows of any
colour are, you know— something I know—
complementary colours." I was not sure of my own
meaning, but I had an idea in my head, though
I could not express it. She took me up shortly.

"Child, you don't know what you are saying.
And besides, I don't want compliments at my
time of life. I lay awake, too, thinking of the cap.
I only buy one ready-made once a year, and of
course it's a matter for consideration; and I came
to the conclusion that you were quite right."

"Oh! dear Miss Pole! I was quite wrong;
if you only knew I did think it a very pretty
cap— only—— "

"Well! do just finish what you've got to
say. You're almost as bad as Miss Matty in
your way of talking, without being half as good
as she is in other ways; though I'm very fond
of you, Mary, I don't mean I am not; but you
must see you're very off and on, and very
muddle-headed. It's the truth, so you will not
mind my saying so."

It was just because it did seem like the truth
at that time that I did mind her saying so; and,
in despair, I thought I would tell her all.

"I did not mean what I said; I don't think
lilac too old or green too young; and I think the
mixture very becoming to you; and I think you
will never get such a pretty cap again, at least
in Cranford." It was fully out, so far, at least.

"Then, Mary Smith, will you tell me what you
did mean, by speaking as you did, and convincing
me against my will, and giving me a bad night?"

"I meant— oh, Miss Pole, I meant to surprise
you with a present from Paris; and I
thought it would be a cap. Mrs. Gordon was
to choose it, and Mr. Ludovic to bring it. I
dare say it is in England now; only it's not a cap.
And I did not want you to buy Johnson's cap,
when I thought I was getting another for you."

Miss Pole found this speech "muddle-headed,"
I have no doubt, though she did not say so, only
making an odd noise of perplexity. I went on:
"I wrote to Mrs. Gordon, and asked her to get
you a present— something new and pretty. I
meant it to be a dress, but I suppose I did not say
so; I thought it would be a cap, for Paris is so
famous for caps, and it is ——"

"You're a good girl, Mary" (I was past
thirty, but did not object to being called a girl;
and, indeed, I generally felt like a girl at
Cranford, where everybody was so much older
than I was), "but when you want a thing, say
what you want; it is the best way in general.
And now I suppose Mrs. Gordon has bought
something quite different?— a pair of shoes, I
dare say, for people talk a deal of Paris shoes.
Anyhow, I'm just as much obliged to you, Mary,
my dear. Only you should not go and spend
your money on me."

"It was not much money; and it was not a
pair of shoes. You'll let me go and get the cap,
won't you? It was so pretty— somebody will
be sure to snatch it up."

"I don't like getting a cap that's sure to be
unbecoming."

"But it is not; it was not. I never saw you
look so well in anything," said I.

"Mary, Mary, remember who is the father of
lies!"

"But he's not my father," exclaimed I, in a
hurry, for I saw Mrs. FitzAdam go down the street
in the direction of Johnson's shop. "I'll eat my
words; they were all false: only just let me run
down and buy you that cap— that pretty cap."

"Well! run off, child. I liked it myself till
you put me out of taste with it."

I brought it back in triumph from under
Mrs. FitzAdam's very nose, as she was hanging
in meditation over it; and the more we saw
of it, the more we felt pleased with our purchase.
We turned it on this side, and we turned
it on that; and though we hurried it away into
Miss Pole's bedroom at the sound of a double
knock at the door, when we found it was only
Miss Matty and Mr. Peter, Miss Pole could
not resist the opportunity of displaying it, and
said in a solemn way to Miss Matty:

"Can I speak to you for a few minutes in
private?" And I knew feminine delicacy too well
to explain what this grave prelude was to lead
to; aware how immediately Miss Matty's anxious
tremor would be allayed by the sight of the cap.
I had to go on talking to Mr. Peter, however,
when I would far rather have been in the bedroom,
and heard the observations and comments.

We talked of the new cap all day; what
gowns it would suit; whether a certain bow was
not rather too coquettish for a woman of Miss
Pole's age. "No longer young," as she called
herself, after a little struggle with the words,
though at sixty-five she need not have blushed
as if she were telling a falsehood. But at last the
cap was put away, and with a wrench we turned
our thoughts from the subject. We had been
silent for a little while, each at our work with a
candle between us, when Miss Pole began:

"It was very kind of you, Mary, to think of
giving me a present from Paris."