As she spoke, the door-handle turned and Hawkins entered, bearing with unusual pomp and circumstance a heavily laden tray. Letty rubbed her eyes. Was she still dreaming? Why were the two maids in waiting upon her? She was well aware that her aunt considered bedroom fires unnecessary, and breakfast in bed a slothful indulgence. She, however, dissembled her surprise, and accepted these unexpected favours with commendable composure.
Having nibbled at some buttered toast and swallowed a cup of tea, she sprang out of bed to search for her programme, and survey herself in the glass. In the glass she beheld an oval face, a pair of drowsy blue eyes, a pair of soft pink cheeks, and a mass of tumbled brown hair. Was she beautiful? she wondered. Mr. Blagdon had implied as much—indeed, more than implied. What bad manners to make blunt personal remarks! Well, his opinion was of no consequence; but did other people think her pretty? (Other people naturally included Lancelot Lumley. She confessed to herself that she would like him to admire her.)
Oh, how cold it was! She curled up her delicate little toes, and, programme in hand, plunged once more into her comfortable nest. Here she prepared to study at leisure the exciting contents of her precious card—no easy task. The card was covered with scribbled names, sketches, initials, stars, hieroglyphics, corrections—and yet, on the whole, it made agreeable reading.
In the midst of this interesting occupation the door opened very gently—the programme disappeared as if in the hands of a conjurer—and Mrs. Fenchurch advanced into the room showing all her upper teeth, a sure signal of unusual amiability.
“Well, my dear girl,” she began, “how are you to-day? Dead?”
“Oh no,” sitting erect; “I’m all right, thank you, Aunt Dorothy.”
“I thought you’d better have a good sleep after your first ball. My!” as her glance fell upon a tattered garment, “look at your poor frock!”
Yes, indeed, there was a large obtrusive rent in the skirt, and a streamer of ragged crêpe made no attempt at concealment. Yet instead of the expected sharp scolding, Mrs. Fenchurch merely remarked:
“How you danced! You could have filled your card ten times over. By the way, may I look at your programme? I see the blue tassel sticking out under your pillow.”
With much reluctance, and deep and guilty blushes, Letty produced the desired treasure and yielded it to her visitor, who was now staring at her so fixedly, that one would almost suppose that she beheld her for the first time! In her mind’s eye, Mrs. Fenchurch really was contemplating an absolutely strange niece! So this simple, timid, obedient, little schoolgirl, unconsciously possessed the fatal endowment, the wonderful, invincible power, that has moved armies and fleets. Unquestionably, Letty had the gift; and her relative was determined to turn it to the utmost advantage.