Peggy had instantly been attracted to Mrs. Howland and had fallen in love with Constance as only a young girl can give way to her admiration for another several years her senior. But there was nothing of the foolish "crush" in her attitude: it was the wholesome admiration of a normal girl, and Constance was quick to feel it. Mrs. Howland was smaller and daintier than Mrs. Harold, though in other ways there was a striking resemblance between these two sisters. Mrs. Harold, largely as the result of having lived among people in the service, was prompt, decisive of action, and rather commanding in manner, though possessing a most tender, sympathetic heart. Mrs. Howland, whose whole life had been spent in her home, with the exception of the trips taken with her husband and children when they were young, for she had been a widow many years, had a rather retiring manner, gentle and lovable, and, as Peggy thought, altogether adorable, for her manner with Polly was tenderness itself, and Polly's love for her mother was constantly manifested in a thousand little affectionate acts. She had a little trick of running up to her and half crying, half crooning:
"Let me play cooney-kitten and get close," and then nestling her sunny head into her mother's neck, where the darker head invariably snuggled down against it and a caressing hand stroked the spun gold as a gentle voice said:
"Mother's sun-child. The little daughter who helps fill her world with light." Polly loved to hear those words and Peggy thought how dear it must be to have some claim to such a tender love and know that one meant so much to the joy and happiness of another.
Mrs. Harold had written a great deal of Peggy's history to this sister, so Mrs. Howland felt by no means a stranger to the young girl beside her, and her heart was full of sympathy when she thought of her lonely life in spite of all this world had given her of worldly goods.
Meantime the little opera opened with a dashing chorus, a ballet composed, apparently, of about fifty fetching young girls, gowned in the most up-to-date costumes, wearing large picture hats which were the envy of many a real feminine heart in the audience, and carrying green parsols with long sticks and fascinating tassles. Oh, the costumer knew his business and those dainty high-heeled French slippers seemed at least five sizes smaller than they really were as they tripped so lightly through the mazes of the ballet. But alack! the illusion was just a TRIFLE dispelled when the ballet-girls broke into a rollicking chorus, for some of those voices boomed across the auditorium with an undoubtable masculine power.
Nevertheless, the ballet was encored until the poor dancers were mopping rouge-tinged perspiration from their faces. One scene followed another in rapid order, all going off without a hitch until the curtain fell upon the first act, and during the interval and general bustle of friend greeting friend Polly and Mrs. Harold disappeared. At first, Mrs. Howland was not aware of their absence, then becoming alive to it she asked:
"Connie, dear, what has become of Aunt Janet and Polly?"
"I am sure I don't know, mother. They were here only a moment ago," answered Constance.
"I saw them go off with Happy, beating it for all they were worth toward the wings, Carissima," answered Snap, using for Mrs. Howland the name he had given her when he first met her, for this splendid big son-in-law loved her as though she were his own mother, and that love was returned in full.
"Peggy, dear, can you enlighten us?" asked Mrs. Howland looking at the girl beside her, for her lips were twitching and her eyes a-twinkle.