“Then you put on your prettiest frock and come and stand beside the old lady, and burst out with something about the weather if you hear me mention stocks, bonds, or real estate.”
Millicent went home and told her grandfather of the high honor thrust upon her. The responsibility, with that of netting Damaris’s hair into a demure coiffure for the occasion, made her all aquiver with excitement.
As soon as she had left Miss Frink that day, Adèle knocked on her hostess’s door.
“I heard you and Miss Duane talking, so I knew you were not asleep, Aunt Susanna,” she said. “I wanted you to see if I look all right for to-night.”
Miss Frink drew herself up to a sitting posture and regarded her visitor. Adèle looked like a French marquise, with her snowy hair, excited color, and eyes sparkling like brown diamonds. Her white crêpe gown clung to her.
Miss Frink adjusted her glasses and nodded. “Very picturesque,” she said. “Sit down a minute, Adèle.”
The latter’s eyes scintillated with swift apprehension. There was no warmth in her hostess’s approval.
“What do you wish to say, Aunt Susanna? Is it about my hair? I’ll tell you.”
“No, no,” said Miss Frink. “We are way past that.”
Adèle liked the atmosphere less and less.