Miss Meredith floated about the room. "Perfectly sweet," she said one minute, and "Isn't it a dream?" the next. (What was Mr. Symington saying in the drawing-room?)
It came alarmingly near tea-time. Elma made everybody prink up a little. "We are all such frights," she said, "and there's some old johnny with papa in the drawing-room."
"I do believe you know who it is," said Betty, "and won't tell us." She was in a suspicious mood with society in general.
"I do," said Elma simply. "It's Mr. Symington."
Mabel did not faint. She was providentially with her back to the others, packing a tulle dress in tissue paper just then, and one has to be very particular with tulle. She was quite collected and calm when she finished. Miss Meredith was the colour of the Liberty green screen behind her. Her energy did not fail her in this crisis however.
"Why, it's nice Mr. Symington comes back," she said. "Is he coming to the wedding?"
"He is," said Elma. "He was my 'particular.' I asked Isobel if I might invite him."
"Who is he anyway?" asked Isobel, patting her hair gently in front of a mirror.
("Oh, Isobel, my friend, if you only knew that," Elma conferred with herself, "you wouldn't perhaps be the centre of attraction to-day.")
"He's a man who's great friends with the pater," said Jean unconcernedly. "He goes abroad a lot and writes up things and develops photos and has a place in Wales."