"No, I did not!" said Miss Cornell emphatically, and her annoyed look as she said it brought a ring of laughter from Poppy and a lovely mischievous glimmer to her eyes.
Suddenly Sophie sprang up.
"Great Scott! I quite forgot to tell you—Brammie is coming to tea. That's why I came home so early. Do buck up, old girl, and make things look nice. Your papers are all over the place. I want the room to look as nice as possible for old Brammie."
"Oh! blow Brammie," thought Poppy crossly. "I was just going to write something extraordinarily fine; now it will be lost for ever!"
Nevertheless, she put her papers away with a good grace, tidied the room, laid the tea-things—as only she could—and went out to pluck fresh flowers for the vases. Sophie stood in her bedroom door buttoning a plaid silk blouse over her richly-endowed bosom.
"That's ripping," she said approvingly. "Och! but you can arrange flowers—I'll say that for you, Rosalind. Wouldn't you like to run home and change your dress, though?"
"No," said Poppy, her head slightly on one side as she surveyed a great flaming hibiscus-blossom she had just put by itself amidst a heap of green on the mantlepiece. "Why should I change my gown?" she asked. "This is quite all right. And the man's coming to see you, Sophie, not me."
"Oh, he really wants to see you, and I think you ought to try and look nice. I'll lend you one of my silk blouses, if you like."
"No, no, thank you," hastily. "It's awfully good of you, Sophie, but I think my gown is quite presentable."
She looked absolutely charming in a pale-blue linen, perfectly laundered by Kykie; but Sophie considered anything less than silk very ordinary wear indeed.