“Mother, dear, this is Dorothy,” said Rose-Mary. “She must be tired after her long, dusty ride. Shall we go upstairs?”
“I’m so glad to meet you, my dear,” declared Mrs. Markin, warmly. “Daughter talks so much about you. Yes, Rosie, do take Dorothy upstairs and let her refresh herself. It must be a very long ride from North Birchland.”
“But I’m not the least tired,” protested the visitor. “So don’t go upstairs, if you were enjoying the air.”
“Air indeed!” echoed Rose-Mary, slipping her arm through Dorothy’s. “Mother, will you come?”
“No, dear,” replied Mrs. Markin. “I’ll let you have Dorothy all to yourself for awhile. I just know how many things you will want to talk about. Later, after dinner, I’ll claim you both. But I’m going to improve this time to write a few belated letters. The desk is clear so I can do them down here.”
Rose-Mary left Dorothy while she made a place for her mother at the little private desk in the ladies’ sitting room, then the two girls took the elevator, in the broad hall, and soon Dorothy found herself in a cozy room, with a dainty white bed, and pretty flouncings—Rose-Mary’s apartment of course, which she had surrendered to her guest for the visit, while Cologne would share her mother’s room.
“Now make yourself comfortable,” began Rose-Mary, assisting Dorothy to lay aside her auto wraps. “Perhaps you want to wash. Here are the things,” and she pulled open a little door, disclosing a bathroom.
“Isn’t it charming here,” Dorothy said as she at once began to make herself presentable for dinner. “I have a blue dress in my bag,” indicating one the porter had brought up.
“Drag it out,” commanded her companion. “You must wear blue. I have told Jack how heavenly you look in blue.”
“And I have whispered to Ned how angelic you look in—lavender,” interrupted Dorothy, not to be outdone in bestowing compliments. “Isn’t Ned a lovely—boy!”