“Well, I—you see, it was this way: I knew she was having her new gown made at Madame’s, and I accidentally discovered that she was to be fitted on Friday at two.”
“Oh, I see. Then, you called upon Frances at one o’clock, thinking that she’d take you along, rather than risk offending Madame by being late?”
“No; Frances isn’t afraid of Madame—she doesn’t owe her anything. I just happened in at Madame’s at half-past two. They told me she was busy, but I said I knew she wouldn’t mind if I stepped into the fitting-room for a minute, as I had a letter from Paris and wanted to tell her all about the new skirts.”
“Oh, you clever thing!”
“Yes. So in I bounced, and there stood Frances, all in billowy waves of turquoise blue and—”
“But I thought her new gown was green and white, with—”
“And you should have seen how sweetly she smiled. So sweetly that I knew she was wild with rage!”
“But did you make it right with the Madame? Did—”
“Pretended that I must have left the Paris letter at home, and told her I’d fetch it the next day. Then, after a good, long look at Frances, I came away and—”
“And ran in to tell all the other girls how her new gown was made?”