"Do you know that you have said nothing at all about the Story Book Girls to-day, and everything about Mabel," said Miss Annie. "I quite miss my Story Books."
Elma's eyes glowed.
Miss Annie had marked the line where the dream life was becoming the real life. Elma, in two days, had transferred her mise en scene of the drama of life from four far-away people to her own newly grown-up sister. It was a devotion which lasted long after the days of dreaming and imagining had passed for the imaginative Elma, this devotion and admiration for her eldest sister.
In case she should not entertain Miss Annie properly, she ran back a little, and told her how it was that Mabel had got a blue gown after all. It was delightful to feel the appreciation of Miss Annie, and to watch the wrinkles of laughter at her eyes.
Exactly at five o'clock however Miss Grace began to look anxiously at Miss Annie, and Miss Annie's manner became correspondingly languid.
"You tire your dear self, you ought not to pour out tea," said Miss Grace in the concerned tone with which she always said this sentence at five o'clock in the afternoon.
Saunders came noiselessly in to remove, and Elma bade a mute good-bye.
"You tire yourself, dear," said Miss Grace to Miss Annie once more, as she and Elma retired to the door.
"I must fulfil my obligations, dear," said Miss Annie.
She nodded languidly to Elma, and Elma thought once again how splendid it was of Miss Annie to be brave like this, and wondered a trifle in her enthusiastic soul why for once Miss Grace did not pour out tea for her sister.