So the scheme had been further developed, till now Flora came in with much to tell. The number of stalls had been finally fixed. Mrs. Hoxton undertook one, with Flora as an aide-de-camp, and some nieces to assist; Lady Leonora was to chaperon Miss Rivers; and a third, to Flora’s regret, had been allotted to Miss Cleveland, a good-natured, merry, elderly heiress, who would, Flora feared, bring on them the whole “Stoneborough crew.” And then she began to reckon up the present resources—drawings, bags, and pincushions. “That chip hat you plaited for Daisy, Margaret, you must let us have that. It will be lovely, trimmed with pink.”
“Do you wish for this?” said Ethel, heaving up a mass of knitting.
“Thank you,” said Flora; “so ornamental, especially the original performance in the corner, which you would perpetrate, in spite of my best efforts.”
“I shall not be offended if you despise it. I only thought you might have no more scruple in robbing Granny Hall than in robbing Daisy.”
“Pray, send it. Papa will buy it as your unique performance.”
“No; you shall tell me what I am to do.”
“Does she mean it?” said Flora, turning to Margaret. “Have you converted her? Well done! Then, Ethel, we will get some pretty batiste, and you and Mary shall make some of those nice sun-bonnets, which you really do to perfection.”
“Thank you. That is a more respectable task than I expected. People may have something worth buying,” said Ethel, who, like all the world, felt the influence of Flora’s tact.
“I mean to study the useful,” said Flora. “The Cleveland set will be sure to deal in frippery, and I have been looking over Mrs. Hoxton’s stores, where I see quite enough for mere decoration. There are two splendid vases in potichomanie, in an Etruscan pattern, which are coming for me to finish.”
“Mrs. Taylor, at Cocksmoor, could do that for you,” said Ethel. “Her two phials, stuffed with chintz patterns and flour, are quite as original and tasteful.”