Blanche could hardly look; so anxious was she for Flora to tell her the locality of her treasure.
“There she is,” said Meta at last. “George is fixing that branch of evergreen for her.”
“Flora! I did not know her,” cried each sister amazed; while Mary added, “Oh, how nice she looks!”
It was the first time of seeing her in the white muslin, and broad chip hat—which all the younger saleswomen of the bazaar had agreed to wear. It was a most becoming dress, and she did, indeed, look strikingly elegant and well dressed. It occurred to Ethel, for the first time, that Flora was decidedly the reigning beauty of the bazaar—no one but Meta Rivers could be compared to her, and that little lady was on so small a scale of perfect finish, that she seemed fit to act the fairy, where Flora was the enchanted princess.
Flora greeted her sisters eagerly, while Meta introduced her brother—a great contrast to herself, though not without a certain comeliness, tall and large, with ruddy complexion, deep lustreless black eyes, and a heavy straight bush of black moustache, veiling rather thick lips. Blanche reiterated inquiries for her watch-guard.
“I don’t know,”—said Flora. “Somewhere among the rest.”
Blanche was in despair.
“You may look for it,” said Flora, who, however hurried, never failed in kindness, “if you will touch nothing.”
So Blanche ran from place to place in restless dismay, that caused Mr. George Rivers to ask what was the matter.
“The guards! the guards!” cried Blanche; whereupon he fell into a fit of laughter, which disconcerted her, because she could not understand him, and made Ethel take an aversion to him on the spot.