At last the day of Estella's coming-out—the day Elizabeth was to meet her fairy god-mother once more—arrived. When the Vision was finally tucked away into his crib for his afternoon nap, and the leisurely young lady warned again and again to watch him carefully, Elizabeth dressed in the required white gown with the blue ribbons, and, with Annie looking very sweet and youthful in John Coulson's favorite shade of dove-gray, set off down the shady streets towards the Raymond home.
It was a hot, still afternoon, one of those days that seem left over from August which so often descend upon the coolness of October. The long rows of maples that bordered the street hung their scarlet banners motionless in the sultry air. The sky, a hazy warm blue, seemed much nearer the earth than usual. Away down at the end of each leafy avenue Lake Cheemaun lay like a silver mirror. As they crossed a dusty street on the hilltop, Elizabeth could see a little crimson and golden island reflected perfectly in the glassy depths. Another street gave a picture of a yellow elm, with an oriole's empty nest depending from a drooping branch. It hung over the roadway, making a golden curtain through which gleamed the blue and silver.
Elizabeth sighed happily, and, as was her habit, fell into the mood of the day, listless, languorous. She strolled along, all unmindful of the dust on her new slippers, and of Estella's reception, until her sister recalled her to the business of the afternoon by declaring that they must hurry, for they were already late.
"It's fortunate I wasn't asked to play cards, or we'd have to be there sharp at four."
"I suppose Stella 'll turn it into a garden-party, won't she?" murmured Elizabeth, gazing far down the street at a motionless sail on the silver mirror—standing like a painted ship on a painted lake. "It's so lovely out of doors."
"A garden-party, oh, no! That's dreadfully old-fashioned," said Annie solemnly. "No one in Cheemaun would dare to give one now. This is to be a Bridge—partially, but Mrs. Raymond is asking a great many other people who are old-fashioned like me, and won't play, so they are to come late and remain in the drawing-room while the players sit in the library."
"It's like dividing the sheep from the goats," said Elizabeth frivolously. "Aren't you sorry just to be a sheep, Ann? It's so old-fashioned." Annie laughed uncertainly. She never quite understood Elizabeth, and felt she ought to rebuke her frivolity. "No, I'm not. What would become of Baby if his mother——"
"Turned goat? But say, I'd love to learn just to see what it was like to go out every day and be a—what is it?—a social success. I believe that is what Aunt Margaret would like."
Annie rebuked her gently. She was always just a little afraid of Lizzie. The wild streak seemed to be in abeyance lately, but it might break out in a new form any day.
Their arrival at the Raymond home forbade her admonishing her at any length. It was a beautiful house—a fine red brick with white porch pillars, of course, and surrounded by a spacious lawn dotted with shrubbery and flower-beds. Its only drawback was its position, it being placed on the wrong side of Elm Crescent, the street bordering Sunset Hill. In consequence the Raymonds had suffered somewhat from social obscurity, and this At Home was partially to serve the purpose of raising them nearer the level of the proud homes on the hilltop.