“It is the first for me that has not been entirely ‘New England.’” Mrs. Clyde’s glance rested on Blue Bonnet’s dress.
“But you said you liked it?”
Grandmother’s smile was reassuring.
Blue Bonnet turned to her aunt. “And—?” Aunt Lucinda had not expressed her opinion as yet; Blue Bonnet hoped she had not been holding it in reserve.
“I think we have all had a very pleasant day—though it has held its surprises—for some of us,” Miss Lucinda said.
“I don’t know why I did it!” Blue Bonnet explained, “I just took the notion, I suppose. I’m afraid Benita would think I had done my hair up very badly—she’s always done it for me before. And I should have worn the earrings—I have them, great gold ones, with pearl pendants—but I’ve never had my ears pierced; papa didn’t like it. Benita used to tie them for me, so one could hardly tell—but I hadn’t the patience—nor the time.”
Miss Lucinda felt that the day had held its unknown blessings—they had been spared the earrings. “I think the costume was quite complete enough without the earrings,” she said.
“I won’t wear any of it again, if you’d rather not,” Blue Bonnet offered, always ready to meet Aunt Lucinda halfway.
“Suppose we say, not without consulting your grandmother or me. And now,—suppose we say good night—Señorita.”
“I believe in my heart,” Blue Bonnet told her reflection in the glass, “that she really and truly liked it! I know the Boston relatives did. Poor dears!”