"Oh, I'll be ever so careful!" Sophie declared. She opened the fan. "Isn't it pretty?"
Dropping into a chair, she murmured: "May I—have this dance with you, Miss Rouminof?" And casting a shy upward glance over her fan, as if answering for herself, "I don't mind if I do!"
Martha and Mrs. Woods laughed heartily, recognising Arthur Henty's way of talking in the voice Sophie had imitated.
"That's the way to do it, Sophie," Mrs. Woods said; "only you shouldn't say, 'Don't mind if I do,' but, 'It's a pleasure, I'm sure.'"
"It's a pleasure, I'm sure," Sophie mimed.
"Is she going to wear the dress over?" Mrs. Watty asked anxiously.
"Yes," Maggie Grant said. "Bessie's lending her a dust-coat. I don't think it'll get crushed very much. You see, they won't arrive until it's nearly time for the dance to begin, and we thought it'd be better for us to help her to get fixed up. Everybody'll be so busy over at Warria—and we thought she mightn't be able to get anybody to do up her dress for her."
"That's right," Mrs. Watty said.
There was a rattle of wheels on the rough shingle near the hut.
"Here's your father, Sophie," Martha called.