“No, I didn’t,” repeated Lisa. “I liked him because he was so thoughtful of every one, and so good and frank. He never pretended not to like me from the first. He always looked it; and yet he has seldom said he admired me. I think he brought all the best of me to the surface by his belief in that best. You can’t help liking him, Tommy; he is so genuine.”
Persis laughed. “I never expected to hear you go on in this way. I might look for it in the Pigeon, but in the Princess, never.”
This was a few days after Persis had returned from her trip to Virginia, and the two girls were unpacking one of Lisa’s trunks, which had just come on from San Francisco.
“There,” and Lisa shook out a gay costume, “I bought this specially for you. Put it on, Persis, and I will dress your hair à la Japanese, and you can make yourself look exactly like one. Let me see,” as Persis made narrow slits of her eyes and screwed up her mouth after the manner of a figure on a face. “I knew it,” continued Lisa. “Here are two of those queer little silver shields that are worn on the fingers to make them taper. I thought they could be mounted as pins for you and Melly.”
“How odd and pretty!” returned Persis, duly admiring them. And next Lisa proceeded to arrange her sister’s glossy black hair.
“Now go off and show yourself,” she said, when she had completed the wonderful structure. “Wait till I stick these funny pins in for ornament. Now take that fan.” And she followed the droll figure down-stairs, laughing at the exact reproduction. “I hear Basil in the library,” she said. “Stand there, Persis, by the door of the dining-room by the big screen.” And Persis obeyed.
Before Basil made his appearance, Prue came in with a tray full of dishes. She stared at Persis, who stood immovable. Prue’s curiosity was aroused. She stepped up with her head to one side, and Persis made a sudden movement. “Law, it’s alive!” exclaimed Prue. “I thought it was one o’ them Chinee figgers.”
Lisa and Basil, coming in, joined in the laugh; then Basil turned Persis around and admired her pretty, comfortable dress. “I must make a sketch of you Persis,” he said. “You’re a regular Japanese decoration.”
“I suppose I’ve got to go and take off these things; it’s dinner-time.” Persis spoke regretfully. “Don’t tell me the Japanese are not more civilized than we are. I never wore such a satisfactory costume.”
“Keep it on,” suggested Lisa, “and let the family see it when they come down to dinner.” And Persis was only too glad to retain the convenient attire, and actually sat down to dinner in her odd array, rather to the disapproval of Mrs. Estabrook, who was somewhat particular in such matters.