There was an instant’s silence as both mother and son turned to contemplate her.
“Isabel!” exclaimed the former, in tones of gratified pride.
“Whew!” whistled her brother, under his breath.
There was cause, truly, for these ejaculations of pleasure and surprise, for the young girl certainly had the appearance of a queen, and, for the first time in her life, she was handsome.
Her tall figure was clad in a rich white silk, with raised figures of golden maize wrought upon it. It fitted her elegantly, and swept out behind her in a graceful train. It was very simply made, being trimmed only by a fall of elegant lace from the low-cut corsage and sleeves. Its very richness was enough in itself.
Her hair was arranged a la coronet, around which glistened Brownie’s lovely tiara of pearls, opals, and diamonds; while upon her neck she wore the wonderful diamond necklace, from which was suspended the cross which matched the tiara. Upon her white arms she wore her own bracelets, which, although not so rich as the necklace, yet went with it very well.
She was absolutely perfect and dazzling, from the crown of her haughty head to the sole of her elegantly embroidered satin slipper.
“Will I do, mamma?” she asked, enjoying their silent admiration, and sweeping Mrs. Coolidge a profound courtesy.
“Where did you find those ornaments?” her mother asked, nervously, and unheeding her question, while Wilbur scowled his disapprobation savagely.
“Why, you know papa is sick, and it was a very easy matter to get his keys, unlock his private desk, and get them,” she said, and laughed lightly, although secretly she was anxious lest there should be another scene.