“Auntie,” she said, “would you like to see me done up in style?”
“I don't know, I am sure, my dear,” said Miss Truefitt, looking at her with nervous eyes.
“Oh, dear, Aunt Vi! if you were to see mother now you wouldn't know her; she is wonderfully addicted to the pleasures of the toilet. There is nothing so fascinating as the pleasures of the toilet when once you yield to its charms. She rigged me up pretty smart before I left New York, and I am going to wear my rose-colored silk with the cream lace to-morrow.”
“But you are not going to an evening party, my dear.”
“No; but I shall stay all the evening, and I know I'll look killing. The dress suits me down to the ground. It is one of my fads always to be in something red; it seems to harmonize with my hair.”
Miss Truefitt uttered a deep sigh.
“What are you sighing for, Aunt Vi?”
“Nothing, dear; only please don't offer me a bon-bon. The mere sight of those boxes gives me a feeling of nausea.”
“But you have not tried the crystallized figs,” cried Stephanotie; “they are wonderfully good; and if you feel nausea a peppermint-drop will set you right. I have a kind of peppermint chocolate in this box which is extremely stimulating to the digestive organs.”
“No, no, Stephie. I beg—I really do beg that you will take all the obnoxious boxes out of the room.”