“You don’t know the circumstances. We were planning who was for whom at our party and I mentioned you for a certain young man and made that remark. You are always lovely and pretty and the boys do like you.”
The girls had been having a confab in the rose room in Cathalina’s absence. Lilian was looking in the mirror to see if the maid’s hair dressing had been effective. “Oh, Cathalina,” said she, “please tell me about some of your relatives that will be here. Remember that we haven’t been here before, like Hilary.”
“You’ll not have such a time as poor Hilary had,” said Cathalina with a laugh. “She had to meet the whole clan, aunts, uncles and cousins, at our regular Christmas gathering, and had a great time to straighten us all out. Campbell insisted on giving her the whole family history.”
“Probably that was just as well,” said Betty, with meaning.
“Tonight,” continued Cathalina, “there’ll just be the young folks. Campbell will bring his sisters over, or at least Emily. Sara is younger. Emily is about a year older than Campbell. Then Louise Van Ness, who is about Phil’s age, and Nan Van Ness, who is my age, will be here. Rosalie Haverhill is an old friend of mine, and her brother Lawrence, who has been attending the same school as Phil, has been one of his best friends. Oh, yes, Ann Maria Van Ness is the niece of Uncle and Aunt Knickerbocker, who lives with them. She and Louise have been great chums, and in the same set of young folks with Phil and Lawrence. Robert Paget is Phil’s friend, you know, who is coming today. Phil had a telegram from him not long ago. He’s going to the station in the car pretty soon to meet him. He and Phil and Campbell and Lawrence are all in the same fraternity. Ann Maria suggested another friend of hers and Philip’s, but he had another engagement. This will be a very informal affair indeed, gotten up on the spur of the moment, as it were. There’ll not be enough boys to go around, of course, but we can all have a jolly talk, and I’m going to have a real party before you leave.”
By this time the girls were on their way downstairs. Philip was in the hall with some fresh roses just picked, which he proceeded to give to the girls, saving Lilian’s till the last. He was so evidently waiting for her that the other girls kept on, out upon the wide porch with its fine columns, while Philip drew Lilian into the library, and put the rose in her hair. “I want to show you the gem of our whole place,” said he; “Dad’s library.” Many, many times in days to come was Lilian to remember that cool, beautiful room, the quiet talk with Philip, the rose in her hair and the look in Philip’s eyes.
They walked around looking at the books, then sat down on the window-seat to talk, more about the music, of which they were both so fond, than of the books.
“Your voice, Lilian, is wonderful. It has a quality in it that holds your audience. You’ve felt it yourself, I suppose.”
“I love it when I can hold them,” replied Lilian, “but I’m usually not thinking about them, only of what I’m singing.”
“You ought to be studying with some big New York teacher. We have better teaching right here in America than they have in Europe, and have had for years, so my professor at school said.”