“Hello!” said Nelly in surprise, for Anne had been over only the day before to visit the rabbit. “All alone?”
“Yes,” said Anne. “Dick brought me. I wanted to see you by yourself. It’s a secret. You see, the Club is going to have a dress-up party for Tante’s birthday, day after to-morrow. And of course you are to come.”
“Of course,” agreed Nelly, simply.
“And you will have to wear a fancy costume. Everybody will.”
“But I never can get ready so soon. I haven’t any dress,” protested Nelly.
“That’s what I thought,” said Anne eagerly, with the tactlessness she had yet to unlearn. It made Nelly flush. But Anne went on with the best will in the world. “So I came to bring you something that I think will do nicely, and will look lovely on you. I hope you will wear it. It will save a lot of trouble.” She held out the package to Nelly.
Nelly looked eager but doubtful. “Come up to the house and let Mother look, too,” she said, and the two girls scampered up the path.
“Mother! Anne has brought me a dress,” said Nelly Sackett, explaining to Aunt Polly in a few words. “Come right up to my room,” she invited Anne, leading the way up the narrow stairway to the second story.
Nelly’s room was small. Anne thought she had never been in so small a bedroom; unless you dignify a tent with that name. But Nelly’s room was clean as a whistle, with quaint old-fashioned furniture and braided rugs, and an ancient hand-woven bedquilt that Mrs. Poole would have coveted. Out of the east window Nelly had the prettiest view of the sea; while from the other corner she looked right into the branches of an old apple tree, gnarled and twisted by its hard life in the bleak Cove, during northern winters.
“You can lay it on my bed,” said Nelly, smoothing the blue and white quilt. Aunt Polly had followed more slowly up the steep flight, and now stood watching, hands on hips, while Anne unfolded the sheets of tissue and shook out the ruffles of white tarlatan. Anne handled the pretty Columbine dress as if she loved it.