“You must put what I tell you,” answered Annie. “Go on. Have you written ‘distinguished position’?”
“Yes—oh yes. This letter sounds perfectly horrid, and not a bit like me.”
“It will soon be finished now,” said Annie.
“Come, Mabel; you are chicken-hearted. You most pay something for your thirty pounds, you know.”
“Yes; but how on earth am I to return it to her?”
“I’ll manage that, goosey, goosey. Now then, proceed.
”‘I will call on you to-morrow in order to choose the dress. It must be very rich indeed, and with real lace on it. My aunt would wish me to look well dressed on the prize day.—Yours, Mabel Lushington.’
“Now, the date, please,” said Annie.
Mabel inserted it.
“Fold it up, please, and direct this envelope,” continued practical Annie. This was done and the letter slipped into Annie’s pocket. She then, to Mabel’s surprise, put another sheet of paper before that young lady.