She turned, calling: "Susan! Susan! _Su_san!"
There was a rustle at the door—a smothered laugh. Sue appeared. "Who calls the Queen of Lower Egypt?" she hailed airily, striking an attitude. She had changed her dress. This was the "other one" given her by Balcome—a confection all silver and chiffon. And this was Sue at her youngest.
"Oh, my dear," cried her mother, "it's lovely!"
Startled by the unexpected admiration, Sue relaxed the pictorial attitude. "You—you really like it, mother?"
"I think it's adorable!" vowed Mrs. Milo. "A perfect dream!—Don't you think so, Mr. Farvel?"
He smiled. "I've never seen Miss Susan look more charming," he declared.
His compliment heightened the color in Sue's cheeks. "I—I just happened across it," she explained, "so I thought I'd try it on."
Mrs. Milo prepared to go. "By the way, Susan," she said. "I've changed my mind about Europe."
"You're not going?" Sue looked pleased.
"Oh, yes, I'm going. But—I've decided not to take you."