Part 7 (2/2)
This was Nancy Bell, flying into the front room upstairs, where Mrs.
Bell and Jane were putting the finis.h.i.+ng touches to Jane's frock, to be worn that evening.
”Awfully excited, darling,” admitted Jane, smiling at the eager little sister.
”Oh, how pretty that is!” Nancy clasped her hands in ecstasy over the dainty ruffled skirt, with its tiny yellow flowers scattered over a white ground. Then she caught up the long sash belt of primrose-yellow ribbon, its graceful rosettes and flowing ends promising an effective finish to the simple toilet. ”You 'll be the prettiest girl at the party!” she declared, joyously.
Mrs. Bell and Jane laughed across at each other. ”In a ten-cent dimity,” their eyes said, with congratulations, ”reduced from eighteen!”
”My ribbon is what rejoices my soul,” said Jane, touching the soft silk.
”That was a bargain we just happened on--the price cut in two because of a few soiled places. We simply did n't use those at all, and there were enough long lengths to make the streamers. It's such a beautiful quality it makes the whole dress look finer than it is.”
”How can you ever wait till evening?” sighed Nancy. ”O Jane, s.h.i.+rley wants me to hide in the shrubbery over there by the hedge, and she's going to slip out with some ice-cream and cake for me!”
Mrs. Bell's eyes and Jane's met again with a smile. Jane's eyebrows went up in interrogation. Mrs. Bell nodded. ”I think Nancy may have that much of the party,” she said.
Evening came at last, although Nancy had moments of feeling sure that it never would. Jane, her curly auburn locks tied up in charming fas.h.i.+on, with various rebellious tendrils waving about her face, slipped into the pretty frock, and Mrs. Bell arranged the primrose girdle, which set off the whole effect. Peter, in his best black suit and wearing the new cravat, looked at his sister approvingly.
”My, but I 'm proud of my girl!” he said.
”Not prouder than I am of my big brother,” responded Jane.
The family saw them off, rejoicing in their youthful good looks, and sure they would hold their own in appearance with anybody in Worthington Square. Peter and Jane, not feeling quite so confident, yet experiencing a pleasant stir of antic.i.p.ation, walked slowly round the corner.
Nearly all the guests were arriving in carriages, and the brother and sister, as they crossed the porch, encountered a number of these, entering from the _porte-cochere_. As Jane's eyes fell upon the gaily dressed young people, the first thing she observed about them gave her an unpleasant shock. They all, youths and girls, were wearing gloves.
Jane glanced from her own round white arms, bare from the elbows, to Peter's uncovered hands.
”Peter, we never once thought of gloves,” she murmured in his ear, as they lingered to let the party from the carriages go in at the door ahead of them.
Peter stared from her to the other guests. Then his gay twinkle replaced the look of dismay. ”Gloves--on youngsters like us! Don't you care a bit,” he whispered back in her ear.
It was a little difficult not to care, especially for Jane, as in the dressing-room upstairs she met many curious glances. The maid in charge even offered to help her put on her gloves, and Jane could not help feeling a bit unhappy as she replied that she was not wearing gloves.
But the sight of Peter, smiling serenely at her from the head of the staircase, where he awaited her, strengthened her resolution not to mind. A glance at the mirror had a.s.sured her that the inexpensive little dimity with its primrose ribbons was irreproachable in its dainty distinction of style--thanks to Mrs. Bell's clever fingers--and this knowledge was very comforting. Her face was as bright as ever when she joined Peter, whose hearty whisper: ”You 're all right!” put her quite on her feet again.
Downstairs, where Olive Townsend stood receiving with her mother, with Forrest and Murray close at hand, a brief but interesting colloquy took place just before Jane and Peter came into the reception room. Forrest had been keeping sharp watch on the hall entrance, and the moment that he saw the two Bells arrive and make their way toward the staircase, he watched for a chance to get a word in the ears of his family. A lull in the arrivals gave him his opportunity.
”Olive,” he said coolly to his sister in an undertone, ”I took the liberty of sending Jane and Peter Bell an invitation--and they 're here.
I want you to brace up and give them just as nice a welcome as you 're giving the rest. Hold on! If you 're angry at anybody, it's at me, and you 've no right to take it out of them for that. One thing I can tell you; if you are frosty to them you 'll settle with me afterward.”
He had his sister in a corner--so to speak. Olive cared very much for appearances. There were many eyes upon her; she could make no angry response or show chagrin in any way without attracting notice and comment. All she could do--which she promptly did--was to whisper back, with lips which smiled for the sake of those who looked at her:
”You wretch, I 'll pay you off--never fear!”
”Do; I don't mind,” and Forrest approached his mother. He was her favourite son, and she was a thorough woman of the world. He had reckoned on her making the best of the situation; and when he had told her, with a gay glance and a furtive squeeze of her hand, he received no more severe threat of punishment than he had expected in her light: ”You naughty boy! You 'll have to take care of them; n.o.body else knows them, or will care to.”
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