CHAPTER VII.
TWO PEANUT-VENDERS.
Allie stood before the glorious wood fire, around which we were all gathered awaiting the summons to dinner, gazing intently into its glowing depths, and evidently sunk in such deep meditation as to be oblivious, for the moment, of her surroundings, and of what she was doing; for her doll, a new and much prized Christmas-gift from uncle Rutherford, and a beauty, hung disregarded, head downwards, in the hand which had sunk unconsciously by her side, while, with the forefinger of the other pressed upon her rosy little lips, she seemed to be pondering some weighty matter.
Daisy lay stretched with her doll upon the tiger-skin, and presently, looking up, roused Allie from her distraction.
"Why, Allie," she exclaimed, "what you finking about so much? Serena Victoria is most upside down. Just look at her!"
Allie reversed her doll to its proper position; and, as she settled its costume, gave Daisy her answer, by putting into words the thought which was vexing the minds of some of her elders, but addressed herself to me, as a kindred spirit.
"Amy, do you b'lieve Mrs. Yorke will be very fit-to-be-seen to take out walking or driving on the avenue, or in the park?"
"Why, Allie," I said, weakly evading the question, and also answering by another, "do you not think your friend Mrs. Yorke is always fit to be seen?"
Still, Allie replied by a fresh query.
"Amy, have you seen Mrs. Yorke's best bonnet? her 'sabbath bonnet,' she calls it." And she turned upon me large eyes, full of solemn meaning.