Christmas and New Year’s Day had been past for some weeks, and there was a pause in the festivities of their circle, when a billet of the usual form and purport was left at the door by a servant in livery. Rose, who had seen him pass the window, had much to do to keep herself quiet, till Nelly had taken it from his hand. She just noticed that it was addressed to Graeme, in time to prevent her from opening it.
“What is it, Graeme?” asked she, eagerly, as she entered the room where her sister was writing. “I am almost sure it was left by Mrs Roxbury’s servant. See, there is their crest. What is it? An invitation?”
“Yes,” said Graeme, quietly, laying down the note. “For the twenty-seventh.”
“Such a long time! It will be a grand affair. We must have new dresses, Graeme.”
She took up the note and read:
“Mrs Roxbury’s compliments to Miss Elliott.”
“Miss Elliott!” she repeated. “Why, Graeme! I am not invited.”
“So it seems; but never mind, Rosie. I am not going to accept it.”
Rose was indeed crestfallen.
“Oh, you must go, of course. You must not stay at home on my account.”