Uncle Leverett had been folding and rolling the silk and laid it on a chair. The dinner came in just as Doris had read two or three lines of her note.
"Aunt Elizabeth,"—when there was a little lull,—"Uncle Winthrop says he will come up to supper to-night."
"He seems very devoted, suddenly."
"Well, why shouldn't he be devoted to the little stranger in his charge, if she isn't exactly within his gates? She is in ours."
A flush crept up in Elizabeth Leverett's face. She did not look at Doris, but she felt the child's eyes were upon her—wondering eyes, asking the meaning of this unusual mood. It was unreasonable as well. Elizabeth had a kindly heart, and she knew she was doing not only herself but Doris an injustice. She checked her rising displeasure.
"I should have enjoyed seeing you and Uncle Win shopping," she said rather jocosely to Warren.
Betty glanced up at that. The sky was clearing and the storm blowing over. But, oh, she had her pretty gown, come what might!
"I don't believe but what I would have been a better judge than either of them," said Uncle Leverett.
"Uncle Win wasn't really any judge at all," rejoined Warren laughingly. "He would have chosen the very best there was, fine enough for a wedding gown. But I knew Betty liked blue, and that girls wanted something soft and delicate."
"You couldn't have suited me any better," acknowledged Betty, giving the chair that held her treasure an admiring glance. "I shall have to study all the afternoon to know what to say to Uncle Win. As for Doris——"