"But you haven't got a fan, Sophie," Mrs. Watty said.
"A fan?" Sophie's eyes widened.
"You should oughter have a fan. In my young days it wasn't considered decent to go to a ball without a fan," Mrs. Watty remarked grimly.
"Oh!" Sophie looked from one to the other of her advisers.
Mrs. George Woods was just going to say that it was a long time since Mrs. Watty's young days, when Mrs. Watty took the brown paper from the long, thin parcel she was carrying.
"I thought most likely you wouldn't have one," she said, "so I brought this over."
She unfurled an old-fashioned, long-handled, sandal-wood fan, with birds and flowers painted on the brown satin screen, and a little row of feathers along the top. Mrs. George Woods and Mrs. Grant exchanged glances that Mrs. Watty should pander to the vanity of an occasion.
"Mrs. Watty!" Sophie took the fan with a little cry of delight.
"My, aren't you a grown-up young lady now, Sophie?" Mrs. Woods exclaimed, as Sophie unfurled the fan.
"But mind you take care of it, Sophie," Mrs. Watty said, stiffening against the relaxing atmosphere of goodwill and excitement. "Watty got it for me last trip he made to sea, before we was married, and I set a good deal of store by it."