“So she was a dear,” cried Grace, soothing her, and launching at the same time into an animated discussion as to ways and means; which milliner to hire the bonnet from, and which was the most becoming way to do up her hair, and how to darken her eyebrows, till Bella looked at her watch aghast. “And I’ve a horrible French letter to write for to-morrow, or Mademoiselle will kill me, and mamma won’t let me go to the reception.”
“Oh, misery! Hurry, do; run every step of the way home,” begged Grace, nearly pushing her out of the room as she ran off.
And the next afternoon Grace shut herself up again in her room; and while the French maid was evolving the usual fine creation out of her aunt for the reception, Grace was also doing wonders,—to steal softly down the stairs, and out and away to Bella’s.
“I thought I’d save you the trouble of calling for me,” she said, in a sweet little drawl as far unlike her usual tones as possible, as she entered the long Drysdale drawing-room. “Oh, beg pardon, I thought Bella was here!”
“Er—no; allow me to do the honors.” A tall young man with shoulders built for ball-team work, came slowly into the centre of the room. “Bella will be down soon. Take a seat, Miss”—
“Strange,” murmured Grace faintly, and wondering if her front frizzes had slipped, and if the pencilling under her eyes looked natural. “I—I—it isn’t any matter. I suppose I’m too early.”
She sank into an easy-chair in the darkest shadow of the room, and covered her feet primly with her hired gown, regardless of the wasted elegance of her new little boots. These had been her one extravagance; but now she was too far gone to care whether or no they were seen.
“Oh, Bella’s the same as she was ten years ago when I last visited here,” observed the young man, carelessly leaning his elbow on the mantelpiece, and staring at her. “She was always a tardy little thing, I remember; kept us waiting everlastingly when we were going outing.”
So this was Bella’s cousin from Chicago. Well, he was perfectly horrid to talk that way of her dearest friend; and besides, what sharp black eyes he had, piercing through and through her. She put her hand up involuntarily to feel of her frizzes, shivered, and drew in her boots farther than ever under her chair.
“I don’t think it is very nice to speak so of your relatives when you are visiting them,” she observed to her own astonishment. Then she would have bitten out her tongue sooner than have spoken.