“I won’t! I hate those girl-things! They look silly on me.”
“All children of your age wear white dresses and pink sashes, Isabelle,” interpolated Miss Watts.
“Well, I’m not a pink-sash child!” quoth Isabelle, with one of her flashes of insight.
“Oh, well, Miss Watts, let her go in her riding boots. If she wants to make a laughing-stock of herself, let her! Poor Mr. Christiansen will be sorry he ever asked her!” said Mrs. Bryce.
“Very well. I’ll wear a white linen dress, with a black belt, and my black hat,” announced the girl.
“Chaste, but not gaudy,” laughed her mother, as she sauntered from the room.
When she was finally dressed Isabelle walked to a long mirror and surveyed herself at length. Her slim, pretty legs in their black silk stockings caught her eye.
“Don’t you think I have nice legs?” she inquired of Miss Watts.
“Um—rather. They are serviceable at least.”