"I lovely? oh, girls, did you hear?" cried Alexia, sinking into her chair again, quite overcome. "She said I was lovely—oh, dear me!"
"And so you are," repeated Cathie stoutly; "just as nice and sweet and lovely to me as you can be. So!" throwing her long arms around Alexia.
"I didn't want to be; Polly made me," said Alexia.
"I know it; but I don't care. You are nice now, any way."
"And I suppose we must be nice to that Chatterton girl now, if she does
break up our fun," said Alexia with a sigh, getting out of her chair.
"Come on, girls; let us go and tell Polly it's just heavenly that
Charlotte is to sing."
CHAPTER IX.
POLLY'S RECITAL.
Charlotte Chatterton stood back of the portiere pulling a refractory button of her glove into place, as a gay group precipitated themselves into the dressing-room of The Exeter.
"Now remember, girls," cried Alexia, rushing at the toilet table to bestow frantic twitches at the fluffy waves of hair over her forehead, "that we must applaud the very minute that she gets through singing. Oh dear me, just look at my bangs; they are perfect frights. Hateful things!" with another pull at the offending locks.
"It's a swell house," exclaimed one of the girls delightedly.