“Oh, you’re donned up, are you?” he remarked. “And, upon my word, you’re looking quite spry.”
But I was not to be soothed by such negative flattery as this, and sternly asked Jerry what he meant by “looking quite spry.”
“Why, spry, you know, spry means—at least, I mean—that you look as if you were going to a prayer meeting; that is, you look so prim, and tidy, and straight. But, Dorrie, dear, I like you far better as you were this morning, and as you generally are. You look real jolly then.”
Saying this, Jerry kissed me warmly, and I forthwith resigned myself to the hopelessness of attempting to improve my appearance. This morning I had worn an old lilac print that had originally been made for Belle. It was faded with much washing, and possessed sundry little adornments in the way of frayed edges and sleeves out at elbows. Truly, Belle had been right, after all, and it was sheer folly on my part to rebel against fate, since neither coaxing nor rebelling seemed to propitiate her. Seeing, therefore, how stern and uncompromising she was with me, I resolved to take less notice of her in future, and had no sooner made the resolve than I began to feel peaceful and self-possessed. What if the gift of beauty was denied me, had I not many other blessings to be thankful for? In all my seventeen years of life I had never had anything but the most robust health, and if my school record was anything to go by, I possessed a much more valuable property in the way of brains than Belle did. These should outweigh my physical defects, and prove my passport to the world’s good graces.
I dare say Jerry was rather surprised to see me suddenly straighten myself up, and assume a much more cheerful expression.
“What is Lady Elizabeth like?” I asked.
“Looks?”
“No, ways.”
“Well, I take her to be rather a brick, do you know. She was as pleasant and as much at home with Belle and me as if she had lived here all her life and had just been off for a holiday. She thinks we are just like pa, and that is high praise, I should fancy.”
“Very high praise, Jerry. I wonder what she’ll say about me. But it doesn’t matter. Is dinner nearly served?”