In Blanche’s realm there had been more and material alterations. In the niches on each side of the mantel were tall, shallow cases, with sliding glass doors. These were made of black walnut, and bright silver-plated knobs and pegs set in the back. Beneath the doors were drawers with handles of the same metal. An attractive array of bonnets and hats hung in one case; of caps, and headdresses and wreaths, bouquets, sprays of flowers in the other, these last apparently springing from a box filled with moss set in the bottom. Opposite the mock conservatory was a show-case, being a walnut table handsomely carved, with a glass box on top containing ribbons arranged with a nice regard to harmony and contrasts of colors and shades. This also had drawers beneath with silver knobs. At one of the front windows stood Blanche’s chair and wicker-work stand. Hanging-baskets of living flowers swung between the curtains; a mocking-bird’s cage in the arch dividing the rooms.
Emma was walking slowly up and down the length of the two apartments, ready to retire, at the approach of customers, to her desk in the fitting-room. Her sisters had insisted upon her right to seclude herself from general observation.
“We don’t mind being made a show of! In fact, we rather like it!” the irrepressible Blanche was saying. “But they sha’n’t come to stare at, and whisper about you, Queenie!”
Her eyes sparkled; her cheeks were red as the French poppies in the glass case near by. Every crimp in her blonde hair seemed to stir in the breeze of excitement that swept and swayed her merry spirit. She flitted about from Imogen’s dominion to her own, altering, admiring, exclaiming, like a restless humming-bird.
“I am sorry for you, too,” she ran on, “for I anticipate great fun during the next few weeks. All the calls to-day that are not prompted by curiosity, more or less ill-natured, will be of condolence. Don’t I know how our dear friends will pull out eye-glass and handkerchief in the same tug. ‘You poor, dear girls!’ Mrs. Smith will sniff. (No matter what happens to you, whether you lose a front tooth, or your fortune, or your life, your best wishers will call you ‘poor dear!‘) ‘Now do you think—honestly, now, you know—that it was really necessary for Philip Hiller’s daughters to take this unprecedented step?’”
“Miss Allfriend will kiss us all around, and drop a tear on each of our noses, with—‘My dear children! it makes my heart bleed! And how does mamma stand it?’ And Mrs. Williams will trot in, eye-glass up—‘Bless me! bless me! I thought I should drop when I read it in the papers! Such a shock! You can’t really conceive! Bromide and red lavender all night, my dears! I assure you!’”
“Hold your saucy tongue!” laughed Imogen, in spite of herself, and even Emma smiled at the spirited mimicry.
Blanche rattled away faster than ever. “I am going to be prim and proper when they begin to come! One and all will criticise our appointments as ‘shockingly extravagant;’ declare that ‘the like was never seen before in store or work-room—quite out of keeping, you know!’ and prophesy swift ruin if we keep on as we have begun. And we won’t hint that we paid for everything, our very own selves, with the money papa has forced upon us for the work we have done in the last four years. It’s none of their business! nor that we have some left, to repair losses, should we have any!”
“Dear papa! all we can do won’t bring back health and reason to him!” sighed Emma. “Or life to”—
Her eyes filled suddenly, and she would have hastened from the room, but Imogen caught her in her arms.