"That might do with some white ribbons to liven it up a bit," said Mrs. Montague, thoughtfully. Then she explained: "Mr. Wellington has arranged a balcony in the dancing hall for some friends who are coming to the ball, just to look on for a while, and he has just said to me that there would be a seat for you, if you cared to see the dancing."
Mona looked up eagerly at this.
She dearly loved social life, and she had wished, oh, so much! that she might have the privilege of witnessing the gay scenes of the evening.
"That is very kind of Mr. Wellington," she gratefully remarked.
"Get your dress, and let me look at it," continued Mrs. Montague, who would not commit herself to anything until she could be sure that her seamstress would make a respectable appearance among Mr. Wellington's friends.
He had requested as a favor that Miss Richards might be allowed this privilege in return for having so kindly relieved his daughter at the piano a few evenings previous.
Mona brought the dress—a rich, heavy net, made over handsome black silk, which had been among her wardrobe for the previous summer, when she went to Lenox with her uncle.
"That will be just the thing, only it needs something to relieve its blackness," said Mrs. Montague, while she mentally wondered at the richness of the costume.
"I have some narrow white taste in my trunk, which I can perhaps use to make it a little more suitable for the occasion, if you approve," Mona quietly remarked.
"Yes, fix it as you like," the lady returned, indifferently, adding: "that is if you care about going into the pavilion."