The girls went for a ride after lunch, and the rest of the delightful day passed swiftly. Sylvia counted the hours. Whenever she looked at the clock her face grew a little sadder. Half-hour after half-hour of the precious time was going by. When should she have such a grand treat again? At last it was time to go up-stairs to dress for dinner.
“Now, you must come to my room, Sylvia,” said Evelyn. “Yes, I insist,” she added, “for I was in reality your first friend.”
Sylvia was quite willing to comply. She soon found herself in Evelyn’s extremely pretty blue-and-silver room. How comfortable it looked—how luxurious, how sweet, how refreshing to the eyes! The cleanliness and perfect order of the room, the brightness of the fire, the calm, proper look of Read as she stood by waiting to dress Evelyn for dinner, all impressed Sylvia.
“I like this life,” she said suddenly. “Perhaps it is bad for me even to see it, but I like it; I confess as much.”
“Perhaps, Miss Leeson,” said Read just then in a very courteous voice, “you will not object to Miss Audrey lending you the same dress you wore the last time you were here? It has been nicely made up, and looks very fresh and new.”
As Read spoke she pointed to the lovely Indian muslin robe which lay across Evelyn’s bed.
“Please, Read,” said Evelyn suddenly, “don’t stay to help me to dress to-night; Sylvia will do that. I want to have a chat with her; I have a lot to say.”
“I will certainly help Evelyn if I can,” replied Sylvia.
“Very well, miss,” replied Read. “To tell you the truth, I shall be rather relieved; my mistress requires a fresh tucker to be put into the dress she means to wear this evening, and I have not quite finished it. Then you will excuse me, young ladies. If you want anything, will you have the goodness to ring?”
The next moment Read had departed.