"That is fortunate," I said, regarding it with satisfaction; then a cry from Peggy made me turn my eyes again upon the box.
"Oh, look," she said, "at this gorgeous frock—pink satin and tulle and sequins! What a show!"
It was an evening gown of a colour far too vivid for my taste. The skirt was trampled and soiled. It had evidently done duty at several parties.
"I believe something might be made of this, Nan," said Olive, examining it with a critical air. "Veiled with black grenadine or something diaphanous, it would make you a charming evening gown. You will need one, you know, when the guests come. It is a fortunate thing that your hair is such a pretty colour and your complexion so clear that you look your best in black. And pink suits you too. See, this colour is not at all startling subdued by black."
"Oh, thank you, Olive," I said. "It is not often you are so complimentary. You generally find something wrong with my appearance."
"Because you are so careless of it," she said as she closely examined the pink bodice. "This must have been Cousin Agneta's. Aunt said she was the slightest of the three, and this waist is barely twenty inches. I hope she does not tight-lace. Ah, what are these spots on the front? I declare it looks as if she were crying bitterly when she last wore this. Poor girl!"
"Rich girl, you mean," said Peggy. "I don't believe she was crying. What can she have to cry about?"
"A good many things, I dare say, if we only knew," replied Olive. "Surely, Peggy, you are not so idiotic as to think that money is all people want to make them happy!"
"Well, rather not," said Peggy with a grimace, "seeing that we manage to be very happy without it."
"I guess one girl's heart is very much like another's," said Olive rather incoherently, "even if she does wear purple and fine linen and fare sumptuously every day. But now I must get on with this hat. Put the things back in the box and take it away, there's a dear, Peggy."