“I thought as long as it was the first day,” Maria said, in a slightly faltering tone. She bent her head until her rose-wreathed hat almost concealed her face. The sisters stood in front of the house waiting for their car. Evelyn made a sudden little run back into the yard.
“You hold the car!” she cried.
“I don't know that they will wait; you must not stop,” Maria called out. But the car had just stopped when Evelyn returned, and she had a little cluster of snowberries pinned in the front of her red gown. She looked bewitchingly over them at Maria when they were seated side by side in the car.
“I guess I was going to wear flowers as well as some other folks,” she whispered with a soft, dark glance at her sister from under her long lashes. Maria smiled.
“You don't need to wear flowers,” she said.
“Why not as well as you?”
“Oh, you are a flower yourself,” Maria said, looking fondly at her.
Indeed, the young girl looked like nothing so much as a rose, with her tenderly curved pink cheeks, the sweet arch of her lips, and her glowing radiance of smiles. Maria looked at her critically, then bade her turn that she might fasten a hook on her collar which had become unfastened.
“Now you are all right,” she said.
Evelyn smiled. “Don't you think these snowberries are pretty with this red dress?” she asked.