“Now I shall get to know them! Now they may get to like me, and ask me to sit with them in their schoolroom,” thought lonely Cynthia longingly.
“The Pet herself! She is pretty! Miles would admire her more than ever; and oh, what a blouse, and I thought mine was quite nice!” sighed Betty dolorously.
Both Mrs Vanburgh and her friend were very simply attired, but with a dainty finish and elegance from which Betty’s home-made garment was very far removed. She felt plain and dowdy beside them, and her spirits suffered in consequence. Superior people may despise her for so doing, but they don’t understand how a girl feels, so their opinion is not worth having. At seventeen it takes real grace to be a contented Cinderella, and poor Betty did not at all enjoy the position.
It was difficult, however, for any companions of Nan Vanburgh to be depressed for long together, so bright was she, so radiant, so brisk, friendly, and confidential. The girls were sent flying hither and thither until all the preparations were finished, then—
“Let’s go out into the hall, and pretend to be governesses, and walk in again, to see how the effect strikes us,” she cried; and out they rushed, like a trio of merry schoolgirls, drawing their faces into expressions of abnormal gravity, to march back again solemn and slow.
“Pray be seated. You must be exhausted after your long walk. To what can I assist you?”
“The breast of a fowl, please, and a portion of ham; a cup of tea and a few hot muffins— Goodness me, are you going to talk to the poor creatures like that? They will be daunted!” replied Cynthia, all in a breath. She was not at all proper, Betty was glad to see, but as full of fun as an ordinary commonplace girl. “What are you going to talk to them about?” she demanded of her hostess, who shook her head in somewhat helpless fashion, and replied—
“I don’t know! I’m hoping for inspiration at the last moment, and eating is a grand resource! Ply them well with muffins till the ice is broken—”
At this moment the conversation was interrupted by the sound of an electric bell, upon hearing which Mrs Vanburgh uttered a sharp exclamation of dismay, and rushed for the hall. Her two assistants followed, but even they in their schoolgirl stage could not keep up with the pace at which she literally flew up the staircase. Her feet seemed hardly to touch the ground; she sprang up two steps at a time, crying continuously, “Quick, quick!” until, just as the head of the staircase was reached, cr–r–r–ur! Came the sounds of ripping seams, and a long dangle of silk flounce showed underneath her skirt.
“Just my luck!” she cried disconsolately. “It never seems as if I could get upstairs like anyone else. Now they’ll think I’m an untidy wretch, and it will all be spoiled. What’s the use of silk flounces anyway? I’ll never have another—I vow I won’t! There! I’ll pin it up with a brooch till they’ve gone. We must be in the drawing-room ready to receive. Cynthia, sit over there, and pretend to be reading. Miss Trevor, you might be casually poking the fire. Whatever we do, we mustn’t alarm the poor dears by looking formal.”