“Yes, indeed! What a pretty dress; it is so soft and fine and just matches your blue eyes.”
“Dat’s so, chile, sho’ nuff,” said Aunt Chloe, smoothing down the folds of the pretty cashmere, “an’ de ribbons de same. Now, missy, I’se done, an’ dars de suppah bell.”
Annis thought again it was like being in fairyland, as Elsie, putting an arm about her waist, drew her on through several spacious, richly-furnished, softly-lighted rooms to one more brilliantly illuminated, where a table was spread with the choicest china and silverware, and all the delicacies of the season.
Mr. and Mrs. Dinsmore were already there, and as the little girls came in at one door, Dr. and Mrs. Landreth entered by another.
Mildred had exchanged her travelling suit for a becoming evening dress, and seemed to have put off with it much of the weary look she had worn on her arrival.
The doctor, too, was greatly improved in appearance by a change of linen and riddance of the dust of travel.
When all had been seated, the blessing asked, and the meal fairly begun, Annis, smiling across the table at her sister, asked, “What have you done with Percy?”
“Found a nurse for him and left him in her care fast asleep,” replied Mildred. Then turning to her Cousin Horace, “Good help is still scarce with us,” she remarked; “a competent child’s nurse not to be had; but with so many sisters at home, all esteeming it a privilege to assist in the care of the baby, I scarcely felt the need of one there.”
“You must have one here though,” he answered with gay good humor, “for we are not going to let you shut yourself up at home to such cares and labors while there is so much enjoyment to be had in riding, driving, and visiting among this hospitable and cultivated people.”
“I agree with you entirely in that, Dinsmore,” chimed in the doctor. “I brought her here to recruit and enjoy herself as much as possible.”