"Now for the dress!" she cried.
We rode at once to Arnold's.
"What kind of a dress do you want?" I inquired as we entered the store.
"An evening one; a white satin, I think."
I could not help the exclamation which escaped me; but I covered it up as quickly as possible by a hurried remark in favor of white, and we proceeded at once to the silk counter.
"I will trust it all to you," she whispered in an odd, choked tone as the clerk approached us. "Get what you would for your daughter—no, no! for Mr. Van Burnam's daughter, if he has one, and do not spare expense. I have five hundred dollars in my pocket."
Mr. Van Burnam's daughter! Well, well! A tragedy of some kind was portending! But I bought the dress.
"Now," said she, "lace, and whatever else I need to make it up suitably. And I must have slippers and gloves. You know what a young girl requires to make her look like a lady. I want to look so well that the most critical eye will detect no fault in my appearance. It can be done, can it not, Miss Butterworth? My face and figure will not spoil the effect, will they?"
"No," said I; "you have a good face and a beautiful figure. You ought to look well. Are you going to a ball, my dear?"
"I am going to a ball," she answered; but her tone was so strange the people passing us turned to look at her.