"Oh, Lola, is it you? I am so glad you woke me! Many happy returns, my child. Have you had any presents?"
"Oh, yes, pretty good ones. I put my stocking out last night, and it was stuffed. A white mouse from Fred in it, too. It ran away and up the bell-rope, and we have been catching it ever since; but," hanging her head, "there was nothing from you, Cecil."
"Well, Lola," remorsefully, "it is never too late to mend. Would you like a locket? Fetch my dressing-case and you shall choose one."
Cecil was too happy herself that morning not to be amiable to others, and Lola was her favourite; so she would not hurry her, and waited patiently the child's indecision and chatter as she turned over the trinkets.
"Actually Miss Prosody gave me a dictionary; horrid of her, wasn't it? Perhaps she'll ask me to say a column a morning. I think I'll leave it by accident on one of the islands."
"I'll buy it of you," said Cecil, smiling. "I don't think I learned columns enough when I was a child."
"Likely you'd do it now, though, as you are not obliged! Well, Cecil, I think I'll take this dear little blue one with a pearl cross on. It is such a hot day! What dress are you going to wear? It must be a pretty one, because it is my birthday."
Cecil smiled contentedly. It was the birthday of something besides Lola—the dawn of a new life to herself. "Here, miss will this do?" asked she, holding up a fresh grey muslin for her sister's inspection.
"Middling," discontentedly, "Bluebell looks well in those cool, simple dresses; but you are never really pretty, Cecil, except in a grand velvet dress, and then you are splendid."
"Fine feathers make fine birds," replied the other, rather hurt. It was not a morning on which she could bear to be told that her attractions must depend on her toilette; but, half-an-hour afterwards, as she knotted some carnation ribbon on the grey dress and in her dusky hair, a shy smile came over her face, for she saw she was beautiful with the light of love. A warm tinge coloured the usually pale cheek, the lips had taken a deeper red, and were parted with a rare fin smile—the velvet eyes were softer and of liquid brightness.