"There! I guess you can put your ring on again," she said with a laugh of jovial significance; and Undine, echoing the laugh in a murmur of complacency, slipped on the fourth finger of her recovered hand a band of sapphires in an intricate setting.
Mrs. Heeny took up the hand again. "Them's old stones, Undine—they've got a different look," she said, examining the ring while she rubbed her cushioned palm over the girl's brilliant finger-tips. "And the setting's quaint—I wouldn't wonder but what it was one of old Gran'ma Dagonet's."
Mrs. Spragg, hovering near in fond beatitude, looked up quickly.
"Why, don't you s'pose he BOUGHT it for her, Mrs. Heeny? It came in a
Tiff'ny box."
The manicure laughed again. "Of course he's had Tiff'ny rub it up. Ain't you ever heard of ancestral jewels, Mrs. Spragg? In the Eu-ropean aristocracy they never go out and BUY engagement-rings; and Undine's marrying into our aristocracy."
Mrs. Spragg looked relieved. "Oh, I thought maybe they were trying to scrimp on the ring—"
Mrs. Heeny, shrugging away this explanation, rose from her seat and rolled back her shiny black sleeves.
"Look at here, Undine, if you really want me to do your hair it's time we got to work."
The girl swung about in her seat so that she faced the mirror on the dressing-table. Her shoulders shone through transparencies of lace and muslin which slipped back as she lifted her arms to draw the tortoise-shell pins from her hair.
"Of course you've got to do it—I want to look perfectly lovely!"