"Didn't you know I meant to have a sort of kindergarten? We planned it even before starting; but Miss Elder seemed to need me at first, and since then—things—have happened——"
"And other things will happen, dear child! Quite other and different things."
The lady's smile was bewitching. Vivian flushed slowly under her gaze.
"Oh, my dear, I watched you dancing together! You don't mind my noticing, do you?"
Her voice was suddenly tender and respectful. "I do not wish to intrude, but you are very dear to me. Come into my room—do—and tell me what to wear to-night."
Mrs. St. Cloud's clothes had always been a delight to Vivian. They were what she would have liked to wear—and never quite have dared, under the New England fear of being "too dressy." Her own beauty was kept trimly neat, like a closed gentian.
Her friend was in the gayest mood. She showed her a trunkful of delicate garments and gave her a glittering embroidered scarf, which the girl rapturously admired, but declared she would never have the courage to wear.
"You shall wear it this very night," declared the lady. "Here—show me what you've got. You shall be as lovely as you are, for once!"
So Vivian brought out her modest wardrobe, and the older woman chose a gown of white, insisted on shortening the sleeves to fairy wings of lace, draped the scarf about her white neck, raised the soft, close-bound hair to a regal crown, and put a shining star in it, and added a string of pearls on the white throat.
"Look at yourself now, child!" she said.