Dolly threw her arms round the strange lady’s neck, and patted the injured cheek gently. Magazine and shopping bag slid to the floor, but otherwise, the stranger made no motion.
“Dolly, behave yourself!” cried Aunt Abbie. “What do you mean by such actions? Let the poor lady be! Oh, what shall we do, Rachel?”
But Aunt Rachel had begun to see daylight. The irrepressible mirth of the two children told her that there was a joke somewhere, and then, as she recognised her own dress and hat, she suspected the truth.
“H’m,” she said; “suppose we take off the poor lady’s veil, and see how much she is hurt.”
“Suppose we do,” said Dolly, and she obligingly assisted her aunt to remove the veil from Lady Eliza’s beautiful, but scarred face.
“Well!” she exclaimed as she saw the glass eyes and the pink wax face, “what have you two been up to, now?”
As for Aunt Abbie, she sank down on a nearby chair, helpless with laughter.
Then Aunt Rachel followed her example, and Dick and Dolly danced round the three seated figures, while they screamed themselves hoarse with glee.
They moved Lady Eliza’s arms into threatening and despairing poses, each more ridiculous than the other.
They took off her hat, and breaking bunches of wistaria from the veranda vine, they wreathed her golden mop of hair with them.