"You hear her complaining, Falconer!" said Dick, with mock sternness and reproval. "You'd find it hard to believe that I offered to remain at home and pop my dress suit, that she might buy herself fitting raiment for this show. Oh, worse than a serpent's tooth, it is to have an ungrateful sister!"
"I thought it was a new dress," remarked Falconer, still eying it and the wearer intently.
Nell shook her head, coloring a little, as she said:
"No; I wanted to wear this one. I didn't want to appear in a grand frock as if I were a fashionable lady."
"Fine feathers do not always make a fine lady," observed Dick, addressing the ceiling. "No one would mistake you for anything but—what you are, a simple ch-e-ild of Nachure."
"Don't tease her, Dick," remonstrated Falconer; but Nell laughed with enjoyment.
"I don't mind in the least, Mr. Falconer. It's quite true, too; my plain frock is more suitable than anything Worth could turn out."
"My dear Falconer, I'm sorry to see you so easily imposed on. Don't you see that she's as vain as a peacock, and that she's only playing at the humble and meek? Besides, I expect that idiot Drake—who slipped out just as we came down—he'll be late for dinner if he doesn't mind!—has been telling her that she looks rather pretty——"
Nell blushed, for Drake had indeed told her that she looked more than pretty.
"And, of course, she believes him. She'd believe him if he told her that the moon was made of green cheese. Put that cushion down, my child, or it will be worse for you. And I hope you will behave yourself properly to-night. Remember that the brother who has brought you up with such anxious care will be present, to say nothing of the friend to whose culture and refined example you owe so much. Don't forget that it is bad manners to put your knife in your mouth, or to laugh too loudly. Remember we shall be watching you closely and anxiously."