Unpacking her trunk, she drew a box from the bottom, from which she took a pretty Lansdown dress, which she had worn at the wedding of one of her friends nearly two years previous. She had nice skirts, and a pair of pretty white slippers to go with it, and although it was, as she had stated, somewhat out of date, it was really a very dainty costume.
She laid everything out upon the bed, in readiness for the evening, and then went down to her dinner, which she always took with the housekeeper before the family meal was served.
Edith found Mrs. Weld looking unusually nice—although she was always a model of neatness in her attire—in a handsome black silk, with folds of soft, creamy lace across her ample breast, while upon her head she wore a fashionable lace cap, adorned with dainty bows of white ribbon.
"Oh! how very nice you are looking," Edith exclaimed, as she entered the room. "What a lovely piece of silk your dress is made of, and your cap is very pretty."
"I do believe," she added, to herself, "that she would be quite good looking if it were not for those horrid moles and dreadful blue glasses."
"Thank you, child," the woman responded, a queer little smile lurking about her mouth. "Of course, I had to make a special effort for such an occasion as this."
"If you would only take off your glasses, Mrs. Weld," said the young girl, as she leaned forward, trying to look into her eyes. "Couldn't you, just for this evening?"
"No, indeed, Miss Edith," hastily returned the housekeeper, her color deepening a trifle under the sallow tinge upon her cheeks. "With all the extra lights, I should be blinded."
"But you have such lovely eyes—"
"How do you know?" demanded Mrs. Weld, regarding her companion curiously.