Maria laughed, and there was not a trace of bitterness in her laugh. “Well, I shall not cry if I never am,” she said. “What a little goose you are, Lily, to cry!” She swept the hair back from her face, and her color had returned. She looked squarely at Lily's reflection in the glass, and there was an odd, triumphant expression on her face.
“I can't help it,” sobbed Lily. “I always have cried when I was very happy, and I never was so happy as this; and last night, before he—before George asked me—I was so miserable I wanted to die. Only think, Maria, mother is going to marry Dr. Ellridge, and he and his three horrid girls are coming to live at our house. I don't know how I could have stood it if George hadn't asked me. Now I shall live with him in his house, of course, with his mother. I have always liked George's mother. I think she is sweet.”
“Yes, she is a very sweet woman, and I should think you could live very happily with her,” said Maria, twisting her hair carefully. Maria had a beautiful neck showing above the lace of her underwaist. Lily looked at it. Her tears had ceased, and left not a trace on her smooth cheeks. The lace which Maria's upward-turned hair displayed had set her flexible mind into a new channel.
“Say, Maria,” she said, “it is to be a very short engagement. It will have to be, on account of mother. A double wedding would be too ridiculous, and I want to get away before all those Ellridges come into our house. Dr. Ellridge can't let his house before spring, and so I think in a month, if I can get ready.” Lily blushed until her face was like the heart of a rose.
“Well, you have a number of very pretty dresses now,” said Maria. “I should think you could get ready.”
“I shall have to get a wedding-dress made, and a tea-gown, and one besides for receiving calls,” said Lily. “Then I must have some underwear. Will you go shopping with me in Westbridge some Saturday, Maria?”
“I should be very glad to do so, dear,” replied Maria.
“That is a very pretty lace on your waist,” Lily said, meditatively. “I think I shall get ready-made things. It takes so much time to make them one's self, and besides I think they are just as pretty. Don't you?”
“I think one can buy very pretty ready-made things,” Maria said. She slipped on her blouse and fastened her collar.
“I shall be so much obliged to you if you will go,” said Lily. “I won't ask mother. To tell you the truth, Maria, I think it is dreadful that she is going to marry again—a widower with three grown-up daughters, too.”