But Marguerite was pronounced “the gem of the collection.” In her plain black dress, with a white apron of thin lawn, trimmed with a wide accordion-plaited ruffle, and tied back with a most enormous bow, a hand in each pocket of her apron, she looked like the coquettish parlor-maid one sees on the stage or in the comic papers. A bewitching little cap was jauntily perched on her fluffy golden hair, and her high-heeled slippers clicked gaily as she tripped around.
At two o’clock precisely, on the day of the performance, the eight presented themselves at Mrs. Lennox’s door and were admitted by that lady herself.
“Well, you are a proper-looking lot,” she exclaimed as the girls filed in, “and you’ve taken a weight off my mind, I can tell you. When I woke this morning I thought it was all a dream,—your coming, I mean,—and I have not really felt sure of you until I saw you approaching. Goodness gracious, Miss Marguerite, I think her ladyship will open her eyes at my parlor-maid! Of course I shall call you all by your first names; they’re rather unusual for servants, some of them, but I’ll explain that American servants are often elaborately dubbed.”
Then the girls flew to their respective places, and work began in earnest.
Hester and Marjorie were a bit appalled at the overflowing condition of Mrs. Lennox’s larder; but Nan and Millicent, having nothing to do, came to their assistance, and a really fine dinner was soon in course of preparation.
Jessie and Betty set the table, while Marguerite gathered flowers and decorated the various rooms until they were fragrant bowers of beauty.
Mrs. Lennox’s house was a large and luxurious mansion, exquisitely appointed and with beautiful furnishings. Indeed, so delighted was Marguerite with her surroundings and with the mirrored representations of her pretty self that she almost forgot to do her work.
“Isn’t it fun?” said Jessie, as she passed the parlor door with a huge silver-basket which Mrs. Lennox had just intrusted to her. “It’s a delight to set a table with such lovely things.”
“How are the cooks?” said Marguerite, leaving off pirouetting before the pier-glass and coming out to chum with the others.
But her entrance to the kitchen was not welcomed.