“That’s it! that’s it! I only wish mamma and Isabel could hear you. They think they are fine ladies, but, dear Miss Douglas, I’d rather be one after your standard, and I will!” and the impulsive girl threw her arms around Brownie’s neck and kissed her heartily.
Brownie was afraid she had made a mistake in speaking thus.
She thought it wise now to change the subject, and asked:
“Where did you get such lovely flowers, dear?”
“Oh, I nearly forgot! Wilbur sent them to you, with his compliments,” Viola said, apologetically, as she gave them to her.
Miss Douglas colored a vivid crimson.
She did not like to take gifts from him, knowing the feelings of Mrs. Coolidge and Isabel; and, at the same time, she did not like to wound him by refusing them.
“They are very beautiful, dear, and it is very kind of your brother to remember me. But there are so many of them, let me fasten this spray in your hair.”
She took the loveliest cluster of white moss rosebuds from the bouquet.
“There, see for yourself. Is it not an improvement?” she asked, as her deft fingers wove it among Viola’s golden braids.