Eve, the tea-maker and mistress of the feast, rose as Mr. Vansittart was announced, and came forward two or three steps to greet him, half in firelight, half in lamplight, brilliant and full of colour as an early Italian picture. Her gown was bright red merino, which set off the fairness of her complexion, and the pale gold in her brown hair; such a cheap gown, if he had only known, bought at one of the sales for half its value, timid beauty being afraid of the strong colour.
The other two girls were in somewhat tawdry attire, skirts of one colour, bodices of another; but they were fond of colour at the Homestead, and girls with scanty purses cannot bend to the iron rule of fashion.
To Vansittart’s admiring eyes, Eve’s red gown was the most exquisite and artistic of garments. He who was generally so much at his ease in all kinds of company found himself hesitating a little as he said that he had come to ask them if they had quite recovered from the fatigue of the dance; and, if so, how it was they had not been on the ice in Redwold Park.
“But perhaps you are tired of skating.”
“Tired? Why, we all adore it,” cried Eve. “But we have been dreadfully busy, making our winter gowns.”
The second week in January seemed to Mr. Vansittart a late date at which to set about the making of winter raiment. He did not know that for many young women with slender purses the January and July sales are the only periods for the purchase of drapery. Twice a year the Marchant girls treated themselves to third-class tickets from Haslemere to Waterloo, and spent a long day going from shop to shop to secure the utmost value for their poor little stock of cash.
“Yes; it’s really dreadful to lose a week of this delicious hard frost, ain’t it?” exclaimed Sophy, much readier of speech this evening than her elder sister.
“Run to the kitchen and get me another teapot, Peggy,” whispered Eve; whereupon the youngest girl started up from the rug and bounded off on her errand.
“Just as we were all improving in our skating,” said Jenny. “We had conquered the outside edge, and Sophy and I were beginning to grasp the right idea of the Dutch roll, and were even aspiring to the grape vine.”
“And then the hockey,” interjected Sophy; “the hockey was too delightful.”