“That is right. Pardon me, how very inappropriate of you to put on a black velvet dress to-day.”
Mrs. Lovel turned very white.
“It—it—is my favorite dress,” she half-stammered. “I look best in black velvet.”
“What folly! Who thinks about their looks at such a moment? Black here and to-day looks nearly as inappropriate as at a wedding. I am not superstitious, but the servants will notice. Can you not change it?”
“I—I have nothing else ready.”
“Most inconsiderate. Kitty dear, run and fetch Mrs. Lovel a bunch of those crimson roses from the conservatory. Have at least that much color, Mrs. Lovel, for your boy’s sake.”
Miss Griselda turned indignantly away, and Mrs. Lovel crossed over to that part of the hall where Phil was standing.
“Mammy darling, how white you look!”
“Miss Griselda wants me to wear crimson roses in my dress, Phil.”
“Oh, do, mother; they will look so nice. Here comes Kitty with a great bunch.”