Part 13 (1/2)
”Audrey,” said Lady Frances, turning to her daughter, ”who is that girl?”
”I cannot tell you, mother. Her name is Sylvia Leeson. She lives somewhere near, I suppose.”
”She is fairly well-bred, and undoubtedly handsome,” said Lady Frances.
”I was attracted by her appearance, but when I asked her if I might call on her mother she seemed distressed. She said her mother was dead, and that I was not to call.”
”Poor girl!” said Audrey. ”You upset her by talking about her mother, perhaps.”
”I do not think that was it. Do you know anything at all about her, Audrey?”
”Nothing at all, mother, except that I suppose she lives in the neighborhood, and I am sure she is desperately poor.”
”Poor, with that dress!” said Lady Frances. ”My dear, you talk rubbish.”
Audrey opened her lips as if to speak; then she shut them again.
”I think she is poor notwithstanding the dress,” she said in a low voice. ”But where is she? Has she gone?”
”She bade me good-night a minute ago and ran up-stairs.”
”But Evelyn has not gone up-stairs. Has she let her go alone?”
”Just what I should expect of your cousin,” said Lady Frances.
Audrey crossed the hall and went up to Evelyn's side.
”Do you notice that Sylvia has gone up-stairs?” she said. ”Have you let her go alone?”
”Yes. Don't bother,” said Evelyn.-”What are you saying, Bob?-that you can cut the figure eight in--”
Audrey turned away with an expression of disgust. A moment later she said something to her friend Juliet and ran up-stairs herself.
”What are we to do with Evelyn?” was her thought.
The same thought was pa.s.sing through the minds of almost all the matrons present; but Evelyn herself imagined that she was most fascinating.
Audrey went to Evelyn's bedroom. There she saw Sylvia already arrayed in her ugly, tattered, and untidy dress. She looked like a different girl.
She was pinning her battered sailor-hat on her head; the color had left her cheeks, and her eyes were no longer bright. When she saw Audrey she pointed to the muslin dress, which was lying neatly folded on a chair.
”I am going to take it home; it shall be washed, and you shall have it back again.”
”Never mind about that,” answered Audrey; ”I would rather you did not trouble.”
”Very well-as you like; and thank you, Miss Wynford, a hundred times. I have had a heavenly evening-something to live for. I shall live on the thoughts of it for many and many a day. Good night, Miss Wynford.”
”But stay!” cried Audrey-”stay! It is nearly midnight. How are you going to get home?”
”I shall get home all right,” said Sylvia.
”You cannot go alone.”