"I've decided," said the old lady, with the air of one announcing a decision the importance of which would shake at least two continents, "I've decided to go to that ridiculous show of yours."
"Oh, have you?" said Patty, "that's very nice, I'm sure."
"I'm glad you're pleased," said the old lady grimly, "though I'm not going for the sake of pleasing you."
"Are you going to please your nephew, Mr. Harper?" said Patty, not being exactly curious, but feeling that she was expected to inquire.
"No, I'm not," said Miss Daggett curtly. "I'm going to please myself; and I called you over here to advise me what to wear. Here are all my best dresses, but there's none of them made in the fashions people wear nowadays, and it's too late to have them fixed over. I wish you'd tell me which one you think comes nearest to being right."
Patty looked in amazement at the great heap of beautiful gowns that lay upon the bed. They were made of the richest velvets and satins and laces, but were all of such an antiquated mode that it seemed impossible to advise anyone to wear them without remodeling. But, as Miss Daggett was very much in earnest, Patty concluded that she must necessarily make some choice.
Accordingly, she picked out a lavender moiré silk, trimmed with soft white lace at the throat and wrist. Although old-fashioned, it was plain and very simply made, and would, Patty thought, be less conspicuous than the more elaborate gowns.
"That's just the one I had decided on myself," said Miss Daggett, "and I should have worn that anyway, whatever you had said."
"Then why did you call me over?" said Patty, moved to impatience by this inconsistency.
"Oh, because I wanted your opinion, and I wanted to ask you about some other things. Kenneth is coming to-night, you know."