Ella took them carefully and admiringly in her hands. They were very dainty little shoes, and on the front of each sparkled an old-fashioned buckle.
“How pretty they are!” said the girl. “Are these diamonds, godmother?” and she touched the buckles.
“No, they would be too valuable in that case to be left stitched on the slippers,” Lady Cheynes replied. “They are only old paste, but very good old paste. I gave them to Clarice to wear at the fancy dress ball she got the shoes for, and they were old even then. You see the shoes have high heels, Ella, which suits them for present fashions rather too well, in my opinion. That was because they were for a fancy dress. When Clarice was a girl, high heels were not worn. Now try them on, child—I only hope they are not too small.”
Ella slipped off her own shoe and drew on one of the white ones without the least difficulty.
“Do they fit you?” asked Lady Cheynes quickly, “Quite; perfectly,” said Ella, proceeding to try the second slipper. “The left foot is perhaps, yes, just a trifle too large,” she went on. “You see they are both easy, and my left foot is a little tiny bit smaller than my right—and then I have thicker stockings on than in the evening. But I am sure they will do, godmother, beautifully; and it is so very good of you.”
Lady Cheynes stooped to look at the little feet in their motley clothing of red stockings and white shoes.
“Humph,” she said, with a mingling of admiration and contrariety in her voice, “humph—I thought Clarice’s feet the smallest that ever were seen. You can put a bit of cotton-wool in the toes if you like, Ella.”
“Oh, no, thank you, they’re not as bad as that,” said Ella, jumping up. “I can dance in them splendidly—I feel I can,” and she gave herself a twirl or two. “Oh, dear godmother,” she went on, “I can scarcely believe that I’m going. I really can’t.” Jones and the handy Harriet worked their best. Before eight o’clock all was ready, and Ella stood arrayed for her godmother’s inspection.
“Very nice, yes, very nice,” said the old lady. “Put out your foot, Ella—yes, there won’t be another pair of shoes and shoe-buckles like those, there. Now, what have you to put on over you? No! no,” as Ella held up a gauzy mantle or shawl, “that’s not half enough. You must have something over that. My dark-brown fur-lined cloak, Jones, will be the very thing. You are not used to a long drive in winter such as we shall have to-night. And it is freezing now, I hear—the roads are getting slippery. We cannot go fast.”
“You must have plenty of hot-water bottles, my lady,” said Jones, as she returned with the cloak. “And I’ll tell Henry to be sure and have them filled again to come home with.”