“Poor Mavis!” said Ruby contemptuously, “she’s always getting puzzled.”
“We must try to make your wits work a little quicker, my dear,” said Miss Hortensia. “You will get to like reading when you are older, I daresay. I must look out for some easier story-books for you.”
“But I love hearing stories, cousin,” said Mavis. “Please don’t think that I don’t like your stories. I do so like that one about when you came to the castle once when you were a little girl and about the dream you had.”
“I don’t care for stories about dreams,” said Ruby. “I like to hear about when cousin Hortensia was a young lady and went to balls at the court. I would love to have beautiful dresses and go to the court. Do you think father will take me when I’m grown up, cousin Hortensia?”
“I daresay he will. You will both go, probably,” Miss Hortensia replied. “But you must not think too much of it or you may be disappointed. Your mother was very beautiful and everybody admired her when she went out in the world, but she always loved best to be here at the castle.”
Ruby made a face.
“Then I don’t think I’m like her,” she said. “I’m very tired of this stupid old place already. And if you tell your dream-story to Mavis, you must tell me the one about how mother looked when she went to her first ball. She was dressed all in white, wasn’t she?”
“No,” Mavis answered. “In blue—wavy, changing blue, like the colour the sea is sometimes.”
“Blue,” Ruby repeated, “what nonsense! Isn’t it nonsense, cousin Hortensia? Didn’t our mother wear all white at her first ball—everybody does.”
Miss Hortensia looked up in surprise.