“Oh, no, it is quite right,” said Lady Wyndover, easily. “How beautiful you—it is!” she added, almost to herself. “And it will look better still at night.”
“You are sure it won’t come off?” inquired Esmeralda, not yet quite easy in her mind.
“Of course it will not, my dear; it is simply perfect. Take it off, and put on the others—I am dying to see them! Oh, what a treasure Cerise is!”
Esmeralda stood like a lay figure while the rest of the dresses were tried on, and Lady Wyndover, with a deep sigh, declared herself satisfied.
“I’m glad you like them,” said Esmeralda; “but I shall never be able to wear them all!”
Lady Wyndover laughed.
“My dear girl,” she said, “you will be worrying Cerise’s life out of her for more before many weeks have passed. Why, those two ball-dresses you will not be able to wear more than twice.”
“Ball-dresses?” said Esmeralda; “but I can’t dance!”
“Really? But I suppose not. Well, you must have some lessons at once. Thank goodness, you will soon learn—one can see that.” She looked at the graceful figure thoughtfully. “Not that it really matters whether you dance or not. In fact, there is something original in your being unable to do so; it is all in character. And now let us go into my room and talk over the campaign. Let me see,” she said, sinking back on her favorite couch, and regarding Esmeralda between half-closed lids, “there is a ‘small and early’ at Lady Blankyre’s to-morrow night. That will be just the thing, I think—not too large, and yet all the best—the very best—people. And Lady Blankyre is a very dear friend of mine, and will understand. If it should prove a success—but of course it will”—she nodded encouragingly—“we can launch out. So much depends upon the start! If we get a really good start, the newspaper men will take up the running for us, and the rest is easy.”
“The newspaper men?” said Esmeralda. “I don’t understand. What have they got to do with you or me?”