Mrs. Earle smiled indulgently as she helped her to remove the plain shawl and veil that enveloped her; then she started back with a little cry of surprise that was faintly re-echoed by Violet.
Jaquelina's sensitive lips quivered; her dark eyes filled with quick tears.
"I was afraid the dress would not do," she said, falteringly. "I will put on my wraps and go home again, Mrs. Earle."
She was turning toward the steps, but Violet caught her arm.
"Oh, you little goose!" she said, laughing, "come back. Where did you get such a sweet dress?"
"Is it pretty? Will it do, indeed?" asked Jaquelina, radiant.
"It is lovely," Mrs. Earle said, kindly. "It makes you look extremely pretty, my dear."
"Pretty is faint praise, mother," said her handsome son, as he came up the steps, and overheard the words. "Miss Lina, how do you do? You have blossomed into a beauty since I last saw you."
His college-mate, who had come up the steps with him, peered over his shoulder at the "beauty."
He saw a shy, lovely face with dewy-crimson lips, and large, dark eyes with long, black lashes like fringed curtains—chestnut curls, tinged with gold, clustering about a low, broad brow and proudly-set head—a quaint, pretty dress of yellowish India muslin with lace and satin ribbons fluttering about it.