“My word, Patty!” exclaimed that lady, “you’re simply stunning in that gown! You look as if you’d been ‘out’ for two or three seasons. Your people would never forgive me if they knew how I’ve dressed you up.”
“It was the only thing to do,” said Patty, airily, as she began to draw on her arms a pair of Lady Hamilton’s long white gloves. “The wonder is that you had plenty of all sorts of things to fit me out, and also that they do fit so well. These gloves are just right, though I confess the slippers pinch me just a speck.”
“‘Pretty never hurts,’ you know,” said Lady Hamilton, laughing. “Marie, isn’t Miss Fairfield a picture?”
“Mais oui! She is charmante. It is amazing how the gown suits her. She is très-belle!”
With the grown-up clothes, Patty had quite unconsciously assumed a grown-up air. She nonchalantly flung aside her train with just the same gesture Lady Hamilton was wont to use, and she carried herself with a dignity and graciousness of manner which would have been absurd when wearing her own simple frocks.
“Marie pinned it and sewed it”
“Gracious, goodness, child!” cried Lady Hamilton. “Come down off that pedestal! You walk like a Duchess. It won’t do, you know, really.”