"Let me call Eliza and Margaret; perhaps they can point out something."
She rang the bell, and directly both the maids were informed of the dilemma they were in.
What was to be done? It was impossible to remain a day longer in Olympia's house. The thought was intolerable. Margaret and Eliza stood looking at each other in blank helplessness. What was to be done? All at once Margaret gave her head a fling and brightened all over.
"Never mind," she said, with one of her old coquettish gestures. "I may, I may—who knows?"
Without further explanation the girl went up-stairs, got out her most becoming hat and feather—for she had never been restricted, like an English servant, in such matters—wrapped a scarlet shawl over her flounced dress, and, after practising a little before the mirror, came down with a glittering parasol in her hand.
"Eliza, just come here and see if my pannier is looped properly," she said, giving that article a shake as she looked in at the door.
Eliza came out of the room, grim as ever, and gave the pannier a discontented jerk or two.
"Now what are you up to?" she inquired, curtly, for she was sometimes a little scandalized at her younger sister's coquettish airs.
"Never you mind, only tell me one thing, honest. Look at me. Ain't I about as good looking as I ever was? If I am, tell them to wait till I come back."
"Don't ask me!" was the curt answer. "Of course they'll wait, because they can't help it."