“Well, I am sure that is all the gratitude I should ever want, Mollie,” laughed Ruth. “But wait until you see the houses at Newport.”
All eyes near the door turned to see the little automobile party enter the “palm room.” Miss Sallie swept ahead in her black lace and chiffon, looking very handsome and impressive. Barbara and Grace came next; Barbara with her red-brown hair breaking into willful curves and waves, her big brown eyes glowing with pleasure, and the deep red showing in her olive cheeks; Grace with her look of refinement and gentle dignity. The blond maidens came in last. Ruth’s bright gold hair and fresh coloring showed to best advantage in a dainty white muslin and lace frock. She was half a head taller than dainty Mollie, who looked like a flower with her yellow curls gathered in a soft cluster at the back of her neck and tied with a black velvet ribbon.
On the Waldorf roof, Miss Stuart and the girls sat under an orange tree, hung in some mysterious way with golden oranges. The whole place was decorated with palms and evergreens and beautiful flowers. The soft, shaded yellow lights rivaled the moonlight that glowed above.
“It’s like the enchanted garden in the French fairy story, isn’t it, Miss Sallie? Where the flowers and fruits bloomed all the year round?” whispered Barbara, who sat next their chaperon.
Miss Sallie smiled very kindly at her enthusiasm.
“I expect it is, but I am afraid I have forgotten the story. It has been a long time, remember, Barbara, since fairies and I have had much to say to each other.”
Barbara blushed. “Oh, I am not so young as all that, Miss Sallie; but I have never forgotten the fairy tales I read when I was a little girl. Though I must confess I liked boys’ stories better. I just love adventures!” And Barbara’s eyes shone. In a little while the music commenced, and she forgot everything but that.
Mollie was differently occupied. What she liked best was to gaze around her at the women in their jewels and wonderful gowns.
Just across from her on the other side of the aisle was a rarely beautiful woman in a white lace gown, with a string of pearls round her throat, and a pearl and diamond butterfly that glowed and sparkled in her hair.
Mollie was so fascinated by her beauty that she couldn’t help watching this stranger, and even overhearing a little of her conversation. “It isn’t exactly eavesdropping,” Mollie apologized to herself, “because I don’t know them and they can never possibly know me.” So nobody noticed, but Mollie, that when the woman gave a laughing toss of her head in answer to some question from her husband, who sat back of her, that the beautiful, jeweled butterfly slipped softly out of her hair, fell into the softer lace folds of her gown and then down—down—to the floor!