“Valerie,” repeated Mortimer, gallantly. “That is certainly a very pretty name, but a rather uncommon one in this country.”
“Yes,” assented Valerie, still laughing, as she busied herself with the table; “I suppose it is. My mother was French and I was named after her. They tell me you come direct from the palace,” she prattled on. “Are any of the ladies there called Valerie?”
“I think not,” replied Mortimer, joining in her merry mood. “It would be hard, even at Court, to find a name as pretty as that.”
“And is it true that the ladies are wearing dresses cut in Directoire style?” continued Valerie.
Mortimer broke into a hearty laugh.
“Really,” he said, “I am not competent to answer that. Perhaps,” he added mischievously, “my friend Professor Dean, who takes a great interest in the ladies, can inform you upon that subject.”
Thus appealed to, the Professor fairly blushed.
“Well,” he stammered confusedly, “I don’t know much about ladies’ dresses, but it is true that the fashions have reverted to something like that which was in vogue some two centuries ago and the ladies at the Court to-day are wearing dresses which suggest those of the days of the French Directoire.”
“There!” exclaimed Mortimer triumphantly. “You see he is an authority and I referred you to the right source for information.”
“It must be a very pretty fashion,” remarked the girl musingly. “How I would like to see those dresses—and the Court and the ladies there! What a pity it seems that a Court is wicked and must be done away with.”