“But it is only for a few weeks,” said Cicely kindly. “Is there nothing else troubling you?”
“Oh! no,” replied Geneviève. But Cicely was not satisfied.
“Are you at a loss about your clothes, dear,” she inquired as the idea struck her suddenly. “I thought about them at once. Lady Frederica is rather particular about dressing.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Geneviève; “I have remarked that she is always très bien mise. I have thought about my dresses a little. Do you think they will not be pretty enough, Cicely?”
She looked up in her cousin’s face with genuine anxiety, though half afraid that Cicely would not treat the matter with the importance it deserved. But her fears were ill-founded. Her cousin seemed little less interested than herself in the important question.
“Those you have got are very pretty and suit you very well,” she replied. “But I was thinking that you have perhaps hardly enough. Travelling about with the Fawcetts will be very different from living here so quietly as we do. And there is not time to get any. But, Geneviève, you need not wear half mourning any more. I have two or three pretty dresses, almost new, that could very easily be altered for you. The principal alteration would be shortening the skirts. Parker could easily get them ready for you by Friday.
“Oh! Cicely, how very, very kind you are!” exclaimed Geneviève; and Cicely looking at her was surprised to see that there were actually tears in her eyes.
“Geneviève, you silly child,” she said, “you think far too much of a mere trifle! It is a great pleasure to me to see you pleased. Would you like to come up to my room now, and I will show you the dresses I think you would like? There are a pretty grey silk, and a blue and white gauze, and a white dress—a sort of poplin—that I am sure would suit you. The white dress is trimmed with rose colour.”
Geneviève’s eyes sparkled. In five minutes she was feeling and looking perfectly happy, standing amidst her cousin’s pretty wardrobe, which Parker was quite as ready to exhibit as mademoiselle was to admire.
“What beautiful dresses you have, Cicely!” she observed with a little sigh. “I suppose you wear all these a great deal when you are not in mourning.”