He nailed the garland in place and came down cautiously. “Now, that's what I call an artistic job,” he complacently remarked.
“Why, it's lovely,” said Virginia, smiling, as he turned to her. “It's lovely, isn't it, Betty?”
“As lovely as a crooked thing can be,” laughed Betty. She was looking earnestly at Virginia, and wondering if she really liked Jack Morson so very much. The girl was so bewitching in her red dress, with the flush of a sudden emotion in her face, and the shyness in her downcast eyes.
“Oh, that isn't fair, Virginia,” called Champe from the steps. “Save your favour for the man that deserves it—and look at me.” Virginia did look at him, sending him the same radiant glance.
“But I've many 'lovelies' left,” she said quickly; “it's my favourite word.”
“A most appropriate taste,” faltered Diggs, from his chair beneath the hall clock.
Champe descended the staircase with a bound.
“What do I hear?” he exclaimed. “Has the oyster opened his mouth and brought forth a compliment?”
“Oh, be quiet,” commanded Dan, “I shan't hear Diggs made fun of, and it's time to get back, anyway. Well, loveliest of lovely ladies, you must put on your prettiest frock to-night.”
Virginia's blush deepened. Did she like Dan so very much? thought Betty.