But when the two girls were dressed, Patty’s frock, though not so expensive, was quite as attractive as Elise’s.
Patty’s was of apricot-coloured satin, veiled all over with a delicate thin material of the same shade. A pearl trimming encircled the slightly low-cut throat and the short sleeves. It was very becoming to pretty Patty, and she knew herself that she had never looked better.
Elise’s gown was of white silk, draped with silvered lace. It was lovely, and suited Elise’s dark hair and eyes, and really both girls were pictures. But Patty’s face was sunny and happy, while Elise’s red mouth drooped in a little curve of discontent.
The girl was discontented by nature, and though she had everything that heart could wish, she was never brimming over with content and happiness, as Patty always was.
The dance was in the tennis court, where a smooth crash had replaced the snowy floor of the Christmas Eve celebration. The Christmas tree still stood there, as it formed a beautiful decoration for that end of the ballroom.
It was not a large party, for Mrs. Farrington would not allow Elise to act like a young lady out in society. About thirty young people were asked, and the hours were from nine till twelve.
But the music was of the finest, and as Patty’s favourite amusement was dancing, she had a most enjoyable time.
An exquisite dancer, she was, of course, besieged by partners, but in her merry, wholehearted way, she treated them all alike, showing favouritism to none, and dancing with less desirable partners as pleasantly and happily as with those she liked better.
Roger grumbled at this.
“You’re wasted on a fellow like Harry Barr,” he said, as he and Patty started for a turn. “He dances like a grain-thresher, and yet you bob along with him as smilingly as if you were dancing with a decent tripper.”