And so the party was arranged. Notes, written by Anne, were dispatched to the four boys; plans were discussed for the week's amusements, and the four girls finally started home in a state of great excitement to look over their wardrobes and furbish up their party dresses.
Only Anne had looked somewhat dubious during the conversation. How could she spend a week in a beautiful house, with parties every night and company all the time, and nothing to wear but that hideous black silk?
"Anne," called Mrs. Gray, as the young girl was about to close the front door and follow the others down the steps. "Wait a moment. I want to see you." She led Anne into the big drawing room. "Do you know that I am greatly in your debt, my child?" continued the old lady, as she drew Anne down beside her on the sofa. "I don't think I could ever possibly repay you for the good you have done me this autumn. But I am going to try, nevertheless, by making you a Christmas present before Christmas arrives. Now, when I was your age, I preferred clothes to other things. I think all young girls do; or, if they don't they are most unnatural. Therefore, child, I have decided to pay off some of my indebtedness to you by getting my dressmaker to make you some dresses, if it is agreeable to you. Why, what is this! My little girl crying?"
The tears were streaming down Anne's cheeks.
"You mustn't cry, my own child," sobbed Mrs. Gray. "For I always cry when I see other people doing it, and it's very bad for my old eyes, you know."
"You are so good to me!" said Anne. "It makes me cry because I'm so happy."
"Well, well!" exclaimed Mrs. Gray, drying her eyes and beginning to laugh. "What a couple of sillies we are, to be sure. Now go, Anne, to my dressmaker, Mrs. Harvey, who has orders to make you four dresses, two for evening and two for afternoon. Mrs. Harvey has good taste and will help you select them. But perhaps you will like the ones she and I looked at the other day. One of them I am sure you will admire. I chose it specially because it will give color to your pale cheeks."
"What is it, Mrs. Gray?" asked Anne eagerly.
"It's pink crepe de Chine, my dear."
And Anne held her breath to keep from crying again.