CHAPTER XXIV.
THE PAST AND PRESENT.
NETTIE DECKER sat by the window of her father's house, looking out into the beautiful world; taking one last look at the flowers, and the trees, and the lawn, and all the beautiful and familiar things. Saying good-by to them, for in a brief two hours she was to leave them, and the old home.
NETTIE DECKER HAS A SUITABLE DRESS AT LAST.
She is Nettie Decker still, but you will not be able to say that of her in another hour. She has changed somewhat since you last saw her in her blue gingham dress a trifle faded, or in her brown merino much the worse for time.
To-day she is twenty years old. A lovely summer day, and her birthday is to be celebrated by making it her wedding day. The blue gingham has been long gone; so has the brown merino. The dress she wears to-day looks unlike either of them. It is white, all white; she has a suitable dress at last for a gala day. Soft, rich, quiet white silk. Long and full and pure; not a touch of trimming about it anywhere. Not even a flower yet, though she holds one in her hand in doubt whether she will add it to the whiteness.
I think it will probably be pushed among the folds of soft lace which lie across her bosom; for that would please little Sate's artist eye, and Nettie likes to please Sate.
While she sits there, watching the birds, and the flowers, and thinking of the strange sweet past, and the strange sweet present, there pass by almost underneath the window two young ladies; moving slowly, glancing up curiously at the open casement, from which Nettie draws a little back, that she may not be seen.
"That is Nettie's room where the window is open," says one of the ladies. "It is a lovely room; I was in it once when the circle met there; it is furnished in blue, with creamy tints on the walls and furniture. I don't think I ever saw a prettier room. Nettie has excellent taste."