“No, I am not,” said Betty. “I am not conceited at all. Now listen, Sibyl. You are to be a guest, are you not, at our Speciality party to-night?”
“Of course I am; and I am so fearfully excited, more particularly as you are going to tell stories with the lights down. I’m going to wear a green dress; it’s a gauzy sort of stuff that my aunt has just sent me, and I think it will suit me very well indeed. Oh, it is fun to think of this evening!”
“Yes, of course it’s fun,” said Betty. “Now, I tell you what. Why don’t you go into the front garden and ask the gardener for permission to get a few small marguerite daisies, and then make them into a very simple wreath to twine round your hair? The daisies would suit you so well; you don’t know how nice they’ll make you look.”
“Will they?” said Sibyl, her eyes sparkling. “Do you really think so?”
“Of course I think so. I have pictures of all the girls in my mind; and I often shut my eyes and think how such a girl would look if she were dressed in such a way, and how such another girl would look if she wore something else.”
“And when you think of me?” said Sibyl.
But Betty had never thought of Sibyl. She was silent.
“And when you think of me?” repeated Sibyl, her face beaming all over with delight. “You think of me, do you, darling Betty, as wearing green, with a wreath of marguerites in my hair?”
“Yes, that is how I think of you,” said Betty.
“Very well, I’ll go and find the gardener. Mrs. Haddo always allows us to have cut flowers that the gardener gives us.”