“My dear, I wish you’d be a little more select in your vocabulary,” remonstrated her mother mildly.
“Mummy, dear, you must let me tell my story my own way. As I was saying, Hattie and I were shopping. You know Hattie simply won’t have anything else but the latest and Frenchiest, and no trouble’s too much for her so long as she digs it out. We had been to all the likeliest places—to Arnitt’s and Longman’s and Carson’s and many others, when she insisted that we should go to Madame Lucile’s. The great lady herself waited on her, and Hattie tried on almost everything there was in the place—hats, bonnets, laces, plumes, frocks—and could not be suited. While the things were on the shelves they looked beautiful, but when Hattie tried them on she couldn’t bear them. I am sure Madame must have been disgusted. Even I was getting ashamed of her. Well, at last Madame suggested that Mademoiselle Hello-a, or a name something like that, should come and give her opinion. The young lady, she said, was the very latest arrival from abroad and was absolutely faultless in her taste. Well, Mademoiselle with the profane name was sent for and well, she is simply wonderful!”
Ruth gazed at her listeners with eyes that said what no words could express. They seemed to suggest dreams of delight and beauty. John leaned back and roared with laughter. Ruth gave him a mingled look of pity and disdain, and turned to her mother.
“Mamma, you never in your life saw such a beautiful girl. Honest, she’s simply a wonder. It’s all very well for you to laugh, John, but you’ve not seen her. But I’ll take you to see her and then you’ll know if I’m right or not. I don’t believe she’s a day older than I am, but, somehow she’s quite womanly. And her face, oh, mother, it’s like the face of that beautiful Gainsborough picture we have, only much younger. Her hair is the loveliest color and her eyes are like violets. As for her figure—well—I’d give my eye-teeth to have one like it.”
“Say, Ruth, let up a little, won’t you?” chuckled John, “if you go on I’ll have to be carried out by the butler.”
“Let me tell you, you’ll have to be carried out when you see her; she’s a stunner.”
“Ruth, dear, don’t get so excited,” begged Mrs. Morton.
“I’m not excited, mother; but John doesn’t understand. He’s never heard her speak, or he wouldn’t make fun of what I’m saying. She talks the prettiest English in the loveliest voice you ever heard—and she’s so modest and refined. I tell you she’s one in a million. I bet she’s a lady—every inch of her—and I couldn’t help saying nice things to her. You ought to have seen her blush when I said I’d like to know her. If the girl ever does her blushing stunt when you’re around, John, you’ll just walk right up and propose to her on the spot. And I hope she’d accept you. And now, here’s my proposition. If you fix up my woods, I’ll introduce you to her. Mummy, dear, you must come to New York with me and invite her out. You’ll fall in love with her. You will come and ask her, won’t you?”
“But, Ruth, how can we invite a shop-girl to this house? You are so impulsive, my dear.”
“She’s not a shop-girl; she’s a lady,” exclaimed Ruth, indignantly.