This would not do, so Marjory rummaged out a pair of old stays of her own, into which she coaxed the abundant but soft flesh of Gertie, who looked on in dumb astonishment, only saying at the end, “Ver ist, where has gone me?”
“Inside, I suppose,” answered Marjory, laughing; “for I’m sure none of it has come off.”
On seeing the preparations for artificial light, Sapphira asked confidingly: “Say, Ma’am, you must freckle awful easy. I wouldn’t have thought it here indoors, though; Ma does, something awful, so I’ve knit her wash cotton gloves to wear when she hangs out the clothes.”
When the two girls seemed to understand their duties, Marjory wisely desisted, and left her instructions to sink in, her parting word being that neither one was to speak unless she addressed her. Marjory had thought of borrowing the Lathams’ motor to go to the train; she could not force herself to that length, however, and compromised by sending Peter with the buggy instead of going herself, while she put on one of her trousseau gowns of mull and lace instead of the youthful duck skirt and linen blouse of every day, which, though it added several inches to her height, added ten years to her age.
When Mrs. Coates stepped from the buggy and came up the three steps, Marjory’s feelings were mingled of relief and disappointment, for the lady wore a plain skirt and coat of tan linen, and a very simple hat of brown straw; so that the poor little hostess, in her trailing skirts and high-wired collar, felt overdressed to the verge of rudeness.
The greetings being over, Mrs. Coates pleaded the heat of the cars and the warning of a headache as an excuse for staying under the shade rather than driving, and so they went to the side piazza, and began a conversation that was made up largely of words wherein quantity took the place of vital interest.
Mrs. Coates’s almost affectionate manner in greeting Marjory was gradually losing its spontaneity; her husband had said, when she proposed going to visit the Kents: “I want your judgment, my dear; I’m thinking of taking Kent into the firm. As a man he’s all right, and he’s full of praise for his wife and her inexpensive tastes; but I want you to judge his wife before making the partnership proposition, for the woman is usually the pacemaker of the pair, and if she’s the sort to try and splutter all over the surface of society with a flash like fat that’s jumped out of a frying-pan, it will not be good for either Kent or my business.”
So Mrs. Coates was observing, and she in her turn was beginning to be disappointed, for nothing could be more unlike her real self than Marjory was that morning.
“Luncheon is served,” called rather than announced Sapphira, with the air of a theatrical novice who has heretofore merely brought in a card on a tray and is given her first lines, which are, “The Prince has arrived,” and the break gave both women a feeling of relief.
Mrs. Coates turned and looked expectantly about the veranda, for Billy had dwelt so much about the charm of their meals out-of-doors; but as Marjory led the way into the shadowy dining room, where the two maids stood motionless, she blinked once or twice, until she had taken in all the surroundings, and then seated herself with a feeling somehow of having been the victim of a hoax.