“Oh,” cried Stella, clapping her hands, “I knew you would be the very model of a maiden aunt! Now you’ve found your real rôle in life, Kate. But don’t go crossing the ayah, for she won’t understand you, and you’ll come to dreadful grief. Oh, the children! We should only disturb them if we went in. I said that for an excuse to get you away. Come into my room, and let’s look over my clothes. I am sure I have a black gown somewhere. There was a royal mourning, don’t you know, and I had to get one in a hurry to go to Government House in—unless Pearson has taken it for herself. Black is becoming to my complexion, I know—but I don’t like it all the same—it shows every mark, and it’s hot, and if you wear crape it should always be quite fresh. This of yours is crumpled a little. You’ll look like an old woman from the workhouse directly if you wear crumpled crape—it is the most expensive, the most——”
“You need not mind that now, Stella; and for papa’s sake——”
“Good gracious! what a thing that is to say! I need never mind it! Charlie will say I should always mind it. He says no income could stand me. Are you there, Pearson? Well, it is just as well she isn’t; we can look them over at our ease without her greedy eyes watching what she is to have. She’ll have to get them all, I suppose, for they will be old-fashioned before I could put them on again. Look here,” cried Stella, opening the great wardrobe and pulling down in the most careless way the things which the maid had placed there. She flung them on the floor as before, one above the other. “This is one I invented myself,” she said. “Don’t you think that grey with the silver is good? It had a great succès. They say it looked like moonlight. By the bye,” she added, “that might come in again. Grey with silver is mourning! What a good thing I thought of that! It must have been an inspiration. I’ve only worn it once, and it’s so fantastic it’s independent of the fashion. It will come in quite well again.”
“Stella, I do wish you would let me tell you how things are, and how it all happened, and——”
“Yes, yes,” cried Lady Somers, “another time! Here’s one, again, that I’ve only worn once; but that will be of no use, for it’s pink—unless we could make out somehow that it was mauve, there is very little difference—a sort of blue shade cast upon it, which might be done by a little draping, and it would make such a pretty mauve. There is very little difference between the two, only mauve is mourning and pink is—frivolity, don’t you know. Oh, Pearson, here you are! I suppose you have been down at your supper? What you can do to keep you so long at your supper I never can tell. I suppose you flirt with all the gentlemen in the servants’ hall. Look here, don’t you think this pink, which I have only worn once, could be made with a little trouble to look mauve? I am sure it does already a little by this light.”
“It is a very bright rose-pink, my lady,” said Pearson, not at all disposed to see one of the freshest of her mistress’s dresses taken out of her hands.
“You say that because you think you will get it for yourself,” said Lady Somers, “but I am certain with a little blue carefully arranged to throw a shade it would make a beautiful mauve.”
“Blue-and-pink are the Watteau mixture,” said Pearson, holding her ground, “which is always considered the brightest thing you can wear.”
“Oh, if you are obstinate about it!” cried the mistress. “But recollect I am not at your mercy here, Pearson, and I shall refer it to Louise. Kate, I’m dreadfully tired; I think I’ll go to bed. Remember I haven’t been on solid ground for ever so long. I feel the motion of the boat as if I were going up and down. You do go on feeling it, I believe, for weeks after. Take off this tight dress, Pearson, quick, and let me get to bed.”
“Shall I sit by you a little after, and tell you, Stella?”