And then Victoria deliberately turned and winked at the Miller girls; a real wink, with one bold blue eye wide open, the other shut. Victoria, the surprised girls perceived, was as fresh as a breeze from her own prairie, and they were instantly prepared to enjoy her.
The other hack disgorged its contents. An overdressed woman in ridiculous shoes stepped out; an overdressed girl in even more ridiculous shoes followed her. The girl, fair-haired and exceedingly fluffy was almost as violently perfumed as Madame Bolande herself.
Jean, Marjory, Bettie and Mabel glanced casually at this second young person and suddenly gasped. They had received a jolt. Then they looked inquiringly at one another and back again at the girl. They couldn’t quite believe their eyes.
“What’s her name?” demanded Marjory, when Sallie, who had escorted the last newcomers inside returned to the porch.
“Gladys de Milligan, of Milwaukee,” returned Sallie, holding her nose. “Her father must be a perfume factory.”
The Lakeville girls looked at one another again.
“Gladys de Milligan,” breathed Marjory.
“Laura Milligan!” gasped Mabel. “Of all things, Laura Milligan!”
“Hush,” warned Jean, a finger on her lips. “Come down on the lawn. We’ll have to talk this over by ourselves.”
“It’s Laura all right,” said Bettie. “Her hair’s a lot lighter than it used to be and she’s taller and much more elegant; but it’s the same turned up nose and the same twisty shoulders and the same small eyes, too close together.”