“Run away now, like a good boy,” she said to him, as she had to her father, and closed the door once more.
She ran to her bathroom and filled two vases with water and put the flower stems in, that they might drink and keep the blossoms fresh.
Then, with a lighter air and tread, she went about her dressing for the party.
She put up her hair, deftly copying the fashion that Sue Latrop–that mirror of Eastern fashion–affected. And the new mode became Frances vastly.
Her new dress–the one she had had made for the pageant–had already come home from the city dressmaker who had her measurements. She spread it upon the bed and got her skirts and other linen.
Half an hour later she was out of her bath and ready for the dress itself. It went on and fitted perfectly.
“I am sure anybody must admire this,” she told herself. She was sure that none of the girls at the dinner and dance would be more fitly dressed than herself–if she stopped right here!
But now she returned to the dresser and looked at the blazing gems from the old Spanish chest. If only daddy did not want her to wear them!
A ring, one bracelet, possibly the brooch. She might wear those without shocking good taste. All were beautiful; but the heavy settings, the great belt of gold and emeralds, the necklace of sparkling brilliants–all, all were too rich and too startling for a girl of her age, and well Frances knew it.
With sinking heart and trembling fingers she adorned herself with the heaviest weight of trouble she had ever borne.