“Of course,” assented Mrs. Courtney, amused at the suggestion. “But first we will take luncheon at the ladies’ restaurant where I always go upon these shopping tours, then to the picture gallery, then to a dressmaker’s to be fitted, and I think we will feel that we have made very good use of our time.”
“But, dear Mrs. Courtney, would it not be better to wait for the photograph until one of these new dresses is made?”
“No, dear, we prefer seeing you in the pink cashmere. It is the same you wore when last at ‘My Lady’s Manor,’ and is very becoming. We will go now and have a good luncheon which will refresh us for our afternoon’s shopping.”
The gallery was visited and the sweet face of Hilda imaged for the friends she was soon to leave, the dresses fitted, and she supposed all they had come to do was accomplished.
“We have had a pleasant day together, Hilda,” said her friend, “and I wish to give you a remembrance of it and of me—something useful as well as ornamental. Would you like a watch?”
No need to wait for an answer; the beaming eyes, smiling lips and rosy tint which rose to the fair face were more expressive than words, and Mrs. Courtney led the way to a jeweler’s where she again had occasion to admire the innate refinement and courtesy of Hilda. What the donor selected was her choice, and her pleasure was enhanced and the value of the gift increased by the inscription which Mrs. Courtney requested should be engraved on the inner side of the case: “The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want.”
It was left with the jeweler to be brought out to “Friedenheim” by Mr. Courtney. Then they turned their faces homeward, and thus ended this red letter day in the life of Hilda.
It had always been a foregone conclusion that anything in which Mrs. Courtney took part proved to be a success; therefore the pretty new gowns, the watch and the cabinet pictures reached “Friedenheim” in good time, and were satisfactory in every respect.
Mrs. Warfield’s son Paul came at the appointed time and was, in the eyes of Mr. Valentine Courtney—who, with his sister, called that evening to see him and bid good-bye to Hilda—a young Apollo. In the opinion of the others—Hilda not excepted—he was a tall, finely formed young man, with good features, dark hair and eyes and a firm mouth and chin.
He bore well his part in the after-supper conversation, and Hilda had a feeling of pride that her Aunt Ashley’s nephew was so worthy the attention of her Dorton friends, while he was more than pleased with them all.