“Well, Arthur, and what is filling your mind?” said his sister Henrietta, looking into the face of the handsome boy.
“I am thinking of Sylvia,” he answered. “I wish she were here instead of Evelyn. Don’t you like her very much, Hennie? Don’t you think she is a very handsome and very interesting girl?”
“I hardly spoke to her,” replied Henrietta. “I saw you were taken with her.”
“She was mysterious; that is one reason why I like her,” he replied. Then he added abruptly: “I wish you would make friends with her, Henrietta. I wish you, and Juliet too, could be specially kind to her; she looks so very sad.”
“I never saw a merrier girl,” was Juliet’s reply. “But then, I don’t see people with your eyes; you are always a good one at guessing people’s secrets.”
“I take after Moss in that,” he replied.
“There never was any one like her,” said Juliet. “Well, I am going to dress now. I hope the charade will go off well. What a blessing Lady Frances came to the rescue and delivered us from Evelyn’s spoiling everything by taking a good part!”
Meanwhile Evelyn had gone up to her room. It was neat and in perfect order once more. Jasper’s brief reign had passed and left no sign. The fire burned brightly on the carefully swept-up hearth; the electric light made the room bright as day. A neat, grave-looking woman was standing by the fire, and when Evelyn appeared she came forward to meet her.
“My name is Mrs. Read,” she said. “I am my mistress’s own special maid, but she has asked me to see to your toilet this evening, Miss Wynford; and this, I understand, is the dress her ladyship wishes you to wear.”
Evelyn pouted; then she tossed off her hat and looked full up at Read. Her lips quivered, and a troubled, pathetic light for the first time filled her brown eyes.