The stifled exclamations of the waiting ten brought her head up once more. From the vestibule, resplendent in shining satin and billows of tulle, had appeared a vision. The choir gazed on it in open-mouthed wonder. "Oh, look! The bride! Mm! Ain't it beautiful!"
Hattie was equal to the occasion. Dropping all the tulle into place, she walked from bay-window to table and back again, displaying her finery. "Isn't it pretty?" she agreed. "See the veil. And look!"
Head on one side, the ever-philosophical Dora watched her. And Hattie, halting, turned once around for the benefit of all observers, but with an inviting smile toward the girl, as to a sister-spirit who would be certain to appreciate.
Dora lifted gingham-clad shoulders in a weary shrug. "'Can a maid forget her ornaments?'" she quoted; "'or a bride her attire?'"
"Well, I like that!" cried Hattie.
Quickly Dora extended a hand with a gesture unmistakably cleric.
"Jeremiah," she explained; "—second chapter, and thirty-second verse."
But Hattie was not deceived. She rustled forward. "Yes!" she retorted. "And Hattie Balcome, first chapter, and first verse, reads: 'Can a maid forget her manners?'"
Dora was suddenly all meekness. "If she forgets her duties," she answered, "she shall flee from Mrs. Milo—and the wrath to come!" Whereupon, with a bounce and a giggle, neither of which was in keeping with her spoken fears, she went out, banging the library door.
Hattie turned, and here was the choir at her back, engrossed in the beauties of her apparel. She gave the little group a friendly nod and a smile. "So you are the boys," she commented.
Bobbie was quick to explain. "We're some of the boys," he said. "There's about fifty more of us, and pretty near fifty girls, too, over in the Orphanage."