Miss Rindy’s usually firm lips began to quiver. “But Ellen, but Ellen——”
“Ellen me no Ellens. Unless you want me to die of mortification you will succumb gracefully.”
“It looks as if I must,” Miss Rindy sighed half wistfully. “But I have nothing suitable to wear.”
“Oh, yes, you have. When we have finished the breakfast dishes we will go up-stairs and try it on.”
“What is it?” Miss Rindy’s curiosity really was aroused.
“That black lace of Mother’s. I am sure it will fit you, or at least, made as it is, you can wear it. I want you to take it as a birthday gift from me.”
“I shall not do it. You will need it yourself some day.”
“Do you consider black lace suitable for a chit of a girl? By the time I could wear it, firstly, it would be all out of style; secondly, it will have turned brown or green from lying away; and thirdly, it may drop to pieces from the same cause. Now be a nice, good child and do this for me. I want you to wear, too, that pretty bead chain thing one of your soldier boys made, and sent you last Christmas. You never would wear it, and now’s your chance. It will set off your dress beautifully, and with a rose or two you will look like a queen. Don’t dawdle over your food, Orinda; there is a lot to be done, and we must get on.”
“I declare, Ellen,” Miss Rindy began as she took up her knife and fork again, but she stopped short, and looked so pathetically meek that Ellen felt like laughing, telling herself that her cousin stood bossing pretty well.
The rest of the day Miss Rindy acted like one in a daze. The dress was found to suit perfectly, although at first Miss Rindy insisted that she had never worn anything so low in the neck, and that it must be fastened up close to her chin, as she never wore anything in any other way.