"Yes, mamma, I will be down in a few minutes."
"You look very sweetly in that simple dress; what prompted you to choose that to-night, treasure?"
"An instinctive knowledge, I presume, mamma, that I would look very sweetly in it," replied Della, archly.
Mrs. Delancey was a fine-looking woman—very fussy
and very French. She smiled, and displayed her brilliant teeth at her daughter's answer, then stooped, and kissed her brow. Mrs. Delancey loved her child, with all the strength of affection she was capable of feeling. She was even first in her heart in some moments of pride and ambition, and second never, save to her love of fashion and display.
"Clasp this string of pearls about your throat, it will relieve the plainness of your attire."
"I'd rather not have it relieved, mamma."
"What a strange whim," returned the lady, proceeding to fasten on the necklace.
As the toilet was declared finished, Mrs. Delancey stepped back to observe the effect.
"Charmante, ma chere!" she exclaimed. "Remember, love, your father and I wish you to be particularly agreeable to General Delville this evening. He is a splendid match, rich as a Jew, and of such fine family!"