“We’ll have new dresses then, too,” said Ruth. “Pink’s my colour, and blue’s Rosemary’s.”
“But can’t I wear pink, too? Toppie wears blue in the evenings,” Rosemary objected.
“Well, why shouldn’t you both wear blue? I don’t like to see sisters dressed alike. Besides, will Toppie come?” Ruth wondered.
“I believe she will, for Alix’s sake,” said Mrs. Bradley. “This will be Alix’s dance.”
“Blue will be much more becoming to you, really, Rosemary, with your golden hair,” Alix assured her younger friend, who was looking a little sulky.
“And you must go and see if you can persuade Toppie to say she’ll come, Alix,” said Mrs. Bradley.
Alix saw how much Mrs. Bradley hoped that Toppie would consent, and Giles, his hands in his pockets, walked away to the window and looked out. “And how happy it would make Giles to see her in blue again,” she thought.
They were all going for tea to the Rectory next day, but though it was stormy Alix put on her raincoat and made her way across the common that very afternoon. So familiar was that path now, so familiar the old gardener, in holiday attire to-day, touching his hat and wishing her a happy Christmas, and then Toppie’s face of welcome at the door, for, seeing her from above, Toppie herself ran down to open to her.
“How sweet of you to come! There’s just time to see you between services. Come in. Happy Christmas, dear child!” said Toppie.
“Oh, Toppie—the emerald! Never have I had so beautiful an ornament!” Alix exclaimed while Toppie helped her strip off the streaming coat.