Mrs. Clyde smiled, “Elizabeth looks upon needle work as a penance, I’m afraid.”
“How beautifully you do it,” Blue Bonnet said admiringly. “I never could learn to make them so even.”
Mrs. Prior flushed with pride; “I was always called a good needle-woman. It’s naught but pleasure to me.”
Blue Bonnet looked down at her brown fingers, slender and pliable, but which as yet had not taken kindly to the needle. “You can do some on mine, if you like,” she suggested. “I should think you’d like a change from your knitting.”
“You watch me, deary—maybe you’ll pick up some ideas that way,” Mrs. Prior answered.
A moment later, Miss Lucinda came in, bringing a whiff of the fresh outdoor air Blue Bonnet had been longing for all the afternoon. She saw the girl’s flushed cheeks, the tired droop of her shoulders. “Elizabeth,” she said, “I think Mrs. Prior would like a bunch of our chrysanthemums; they are unusually fine this year.”
In the garden Blue Bonnet found Alec. He knew by now who Blue Bonnet’s company was; Kitty had enlightened him that morning.
“How’s the guest of honor getting on?” he asked.
“Finely.” Blue Bonnet led the way to the sheltered corner of the garden where the chrysanthemums grew. “Got your knife, Alec? I always do forget to bring out the garden scissors.”
Under her direction, Alec cut a great cluster of the big white, yellow, and tawny blossoms.