Ermengarde was now arrayed in the white chiffon dress; it touched the ground, and swept away in a short train at the back. It was cut a little open at the neck, and the round childish arms were bare to the elbow. Round her throat Ermengarde had hung Marjorie's Maltese cross, and among the masses of her high piled-up hair reposed a lovely pearl butterfly. The dress was most unsuitable, but the childish face, colored high now with excitement and gratified vanity, looked quite radiant in its loveliness.
Petite was in ecstasies.
"Ma'mselle looks as if she had stepped out of one of the old picture-frames," she said. "Look how beautiful I have contrived her hair to sit."
Lilias did not say much. She was an intensely polite girl, and she crushed back the exclamation of dismay which rose to her lips. Her own appearance was the extreme of simplicity. Her muslin frock was short; her little white shoes and silk stockings were visible. Round her waist she wore a plain white sash, and her golden hair fell in masses down her back.
While Petite was dressing her, Ermengarde's silly heart was mounting on higher and higher wings of gratified delight. But when she looked at Lilias, an uneasy sensation came over her for the first time.
"Come," said Lilias in her gentle voice, "we'll go down to the drawing-room, and stay together near one of the windows. I don't suppose anyone will take us in to dinner; but that does not matter—we'll take one another in."
"Do you like my dress?" suddenly asked Ermengarde.
"Well, Ermie, isn't it just a little old?"
"Nonsense, Aunt Elizabeth gave it to me. She ought to know, I suppose."
Ermengarde did not care to mention then that the dress was a cast-off garment of her Aunt Elizabeth's.