“This is quite different,” said Polly, unrolling it; “some handsome lace, a fan, a lorgnette, a bracelet.”
“It's easy enough to see that's Silvia's,” said Alexia—“all that finery and furbelows.”
“Well, it's not fair to tell what you think and guess,” said Silvia, a pink spot coming on either check.
“'Twouldn't make any difference, my guessing; we all know it's yours, Silvia,” said Alexia, coolly.
“Well, I think that's a lovely list,” said Amy, with sparkling eyes, “and I for one would be willing to vote for any of those things.”
“My mother says we better give her something to wear,” said Silvia, smoothing down her gown. “Miss Anstice likes nice things; and that great big house is running over with everything to furnish with.”
Polly was reading the third list, so somebody pulled Alexia's arm and stopped her. “A watch and chain—that's all there is on this list,” announced Polly.
“Oh!”—there was a chorus of voices—“that's it—that's it!” and “Why didn't I think of that?” until the whole ring was in a tumult again.
It was no matter what was on the other lists. The chairman read them over faithfully, but the items fell upon dull ears. They might make suitable tributes for other brides; there was but one mind about the present for this particular bride going forth from the Salisbury School. The watch and chain was the only gift to be thought of.
“And she wears that great big old-fashioned thing,” declared Silvia; “looks like a turnip—oh, oh!”