Turning slowly around to the right, then deliberately to the left, she appeared to feel herself a paragon of fashion, a model dressed to give the pupils of Glenmore a chance to observe something a bit finer than they had ever seen before.
As Patricia slowly turned, Arabella, like a satellite, as slowly revolved about her.
Who could wonder that a wave of soft laughter swept over the room. It was evident that vanity equalling that of the peacock moved Patricia to turn about that every one might see both front and back of her dress, but no one could have guessed why Arabella in a plain brown woolen dress kept pace with her silly friend.
It was not vanity that kept droll little Arabella moving. No, indeed.
Thus far, Arabella had made no new acquaintances.
As she entered the reception-room with Patricia she saw only a sea of strange faces, and with a wild determination at least to have Patricia to speak to, she trotted around her, that she might not, at any moment, find herself talking to Patricia's back.
That surely would be awkward, she thought.
Patricia's dress was a light gray silk, tastefully made, and had she been content to wear it as it had been sent to her from New York, she would have looked well-dressed, and no one would have made comments upon her appearance.
The soft red girdle gave a touch of color, but not nearly enough to please Patricia.
At the village store she had purchased ribbons of many colors, from which she had made bows or rosettes of every hue, and these she had tacked upon her slippers. Her hair was tied with a bright blue ribbon, and over the shoulders of her blouse she had sewed pink and yellow ribbons. Narrow green edged her red girdle.