She was the centre of attraction; everybody had an embrace, good wishes, and a gift for her, and all were most graciously received.
But her daughters presently hurried her away to her private apartment, where they busied themselves in attiring her for the day in such manner as suited their own ideas of what would be most fitting and becoming, she smilingly submitting to their will.
“You must wear white, mamma,” said Violet; “nothing could be more suitable to the weather or more becoming to you. Do you not say so, Elsie?”
“Yes,” replied Mrs. Leland, opening her mother’s wardrobe and glancing over the dresses hanging there; “and it will please grandpa better than anything else. There,” taking down a nun’s veiling, “this is just the thing.”
“My dears, remember how many years have flown over your mother’s head, and don’t dress me too youthfully,” Grandma Elsie said, with an amused look and smile.
“Never fear, mamma,” returned Violet in her sprightly way, “how can you fear for a moment that your daughters would do such discredit to the training of so good and wise a mother as theirs?”
“What ornaments shall mamma wear?” asked Rosie.
“Only flowers—natural flowers,” returned her sisters, both speaking at once.
“Oh, yes; and they must be roses and lilies; a knot of them at her throat, and another at her waist. I’ll go and get them myself,” exclaimed Rosie, hurrying from the room.
In one of the lower apartments of the mansion she found Zoe, Edward, and his brothers, Mr. Leland and Evelyn, Captain Raymond and his children, all busy with flowers from conservatories, gardens, fields, and woods, which were piled in fragrant heaps upon tables and in baskets, making them into bouquets, wreaths, garlands, and arranging them in vases.