The decorations were elaborate, and the committee in charge were justly proud of their display.
Bob and Bert were home for their holiday, and were eager to know the result of the campaign.
“Fine,” declared Dolly. “Bernie was chosen by a big majority and she’ll be a stunning Queen. She’s going to wear white velvet and ermine,—real ermine! Won’t she be beautiful?”
She was beautiful. The costume, though magnificent, was none too grand for a carnival queen; and better than that, the face, under the crown of gold filigree, tipped with white ostrich feathers, was sweet and smiling, and showed only kindly and merry impulses.
Dolly, as she herself dressed for the carnival, was distinctly nervous and apprehensive. Bernice had been so busy getting ready for the event and attending to its details, that Dolly hadn’t seen her alone for weeks. She couldn’t say exactly that Bernice had avoided her, but they had not been thrown together, and Dolly had no idea whether Bernice intended to carry out her part of the contract or not.
She feared not; and it was with a heavy heart that she donned her pretty skating costume.
It was of light blue cloth, banded with silver fox. A cap to match sat jauntily on the golden curls, and it was a lovely reflection that looked back at her from her mirror. But Dolly cared little for her own appearance, so unnerved was she over the uncertainty that still hung over her.
Meantime Dotty, next door, was also dressing for the carnival. Her costume was of red broadcloth, with dark fur trimmings. It was of Russian effect, and suited well the rosy beauty of the girl.
She, too, was thoughtful. At last she exclaimed, “I can’t stand it!” and throwing aside the cap she was about to don, she flew down to the library and snatched up the telephone.
“Bernice,” she said, after she got the connection, “I must ask you. Are you going to ask your father,—you know what?”