Part 36 (2/2)

”No; my dresses are all black; the only thing I have that would be at all suitable for evening is a black net,” Mona answered, wondering, with rising color, why she had asked the question.

”That might do with some white ribbons to liven it up a bit,” said Mrs.

Montague, thoughtfully. Then she explained: ”Mr. Wellington has arranged a balcony in the dancing hall for some friends who are coming to the ball, just to look on for a while, and he has just said to me that there would be a seat for you, if you cared to see the dancing.”

Mona looked up eagerly at this.

She dearly loved social life, and she had wished, oh, so much! that she might have the privilege of witnessing the gay scenes of the evening.

”That is very kind of Mr. Wellington,” she gratefully remarked.

”Get your dress, and let me look at it,” continued Mrs. Montague, who would not commit herself to anything until she could be sure that her seamstress would make a respectable appearance among Mr. Wellington's friends.

He had requested as a favor that Miss Richards might be allowed this privilege in return for having so kindly relieved his daughter at the piano a few evenings previous.

Mona brought the dress--a rich, heavy net, made over handsome black silk, which had been among her wardrobe for the previous summer, when she went to Lenox with her uncle.

”That will be just the thing, only it needs something to relieve its blackness,” said Mrs. Montague, while she mentally wondered at the richness of the costume.

”I have some narrow white taste in my trunk, which I can perhaps use to make it a little more suitable for the occasion, if you approve,” Mona quietly remarked.

”Yes, fix it as you like,” the lady returned, indifferently, adding: ”that is if you care about going into the pavilion.”

”Thank you; I think I should enjoy watching the dancers for a while,” the young girl returned.

Perhaps, she thought, she might be able to s.n.a.t.c.h another brief interview with Ray. At all events she should see him, and that would be worth a great deal.

Her nimble fingers were very busy after that running her white ribbons into the meshes of her dress.

She wove three rows of the narrow, feather-edged taste into each of the flounces, and the effect was very pretty. Then she did the same between the puffs of the full sleeves, tying some dainty bows where she joined them, and finished the neck to correspond.

This was hardly completed when she was called to a.s.sist Mrs. Montague in dressing, and by the time she was ready to descend her good humor was thoroughly restored, for she certainly was a most regal looking woman in her elegant and becoming toilet.

”I do not believe there will be another dress here this evening as beautiful as this,” Mona remarked, as she fastened the last fold in place, her pretty face flus.h.i.+ng with genuine admiration for the artistic costume.

”It _is_ handsome, and I look pa.s.sably young in it, too; how old should you take me to be Ruth?” Mrs. Montague asked, with a smiling glance at her own reflection in the mirror.

”A trifle over thirty, perhaps,” Mona replied, and the little exultant laugh which broke from her companion told her that she felt highly flattered by that estimate of her years.

”There!” she remarked, as she drew on her gloves, ”you need do nothing more for me; go now and get ready yourself, or you will miss the opening promenade.”

Mona hastened away to her own room, where she had everything laid out in the most orderly manner, ready to put on, and if Mrs. Montague could have seen the dainty undergarments and skirts spread upon her bed; the costly kid boots and silken hose for her pretty feet, she might have arched her eyebrows more than ever over the extravagant taste of her seamstress.

Mona arranged her hair with great care, as she had worn it on the evening when she attended the opera with Ray, and this done she was soon ready.

She looked lovely. The black net, with its dainty white tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, was very becoming to her delicate complexion. The lining to the corsage had been cut low, and her pure white neck gleamed like marble through the meshes of the dusky lace. There was no lining, either, to her sleeves and her beautifully rounded arms looked like bits of exquisite sculpture.

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