"Before you begin to talk," I said, "would you like a wash or have tea first?"
"Tea, please."
I rang the bell.
"I'm quite anxious to see the young person with the tea-rose slippers," observed Jane, removing her hat and running her fingers through her soft, luxuriant hair, which was parted on one side.
"She doesn't wear them now. We have had a lot of money left us," I said, studying the expressive face in front of me, which had changed so little.
"Does she run about barefoot?"
"Oh, no! What I mean is that we can afford now to give her nice, kid slippers." I struggled to keep my mind on Amelia, and not on Jane's pretty, cool, grey linen gown which was inset with beautiful, Irish crochet lace.
"It isn't mercerised cotton," I thought aloud.
"It's one of my best frocks," said Jane, following my eyes. "Do you think it suitable for my years, Marguerite?"
"I should wear it to-morrow," I said impulsively, and then stopped awkwardly.