"No, sir—I mean ma'am. Nobody else is goin' to have to hate this the way I have!"
"Pink," repeated Miss Barry disapprovingly. "The blue would look quite well on you, I dare say, but pink.—Don't you know your hair is red, and you'd look—"
Blanche Aurora winced. She was afraid to let her mistress go on for fear she was intending something crushing about freckles.
"I don't care—I don't care," she struck in wildly. "You don't know, she don't know, nobody knows how I love pink. Pink's happiness, pink is, whether you see it in the sky or in the roses or where! Don't, Miss Barry, don't!"
The loud voice broke, and two big tears suddenly overflowed from the round eyes and rushed down the freckled cheeks, while Blanche Aurora ran stormily through the second swing door into the kitchen.
The door swept back and forth under the swift impact, and Miss Barry stared at her jellies.
"Don't what!" she said to herself in silent amazement and injury. "Don't what!"
CHAPTER XVIII
THE PINK DRESS