“Molly,” again broke in Charlie, “suppose the box from Pierson’s has never come, won’t you be up a tree?” and the speaker opened his handsome eyes wide, and shook off his cigarette-ash.
Molly maintained a dignified silence toward her brother. The firelight danced and dwelt upon her lovingly. She was so pretty, so fair, so slender, so graceful. Now in her gray plush tea-gown, with her hair piled picturesquely on the top of her small head, and fixed there with a big tortoise-shell pin, it would have been difficult to find a more delightful object for the gaze to rest upon.
“We shall have to fall back upon the wardrobes,” she said at length. “You are a horrid wet-blanket, Charlie! I am sure I——”
Her remarks were cut short as the door opened, and with laughter and shouting a bevy of young people who had been at work in another part of the house rushed in. “It is come; it’s all right; don’t worry, Molly!” they sang in chorus.
“Do be quiet all of you; one can hardly hear oneself speak!”
The box from the costumer’s had arrived; the great costume party was saved; in short, excitement and bustle were in full swing at Vance Hall as it had been at Christmas-time since the young people could remember.
Adonis lifted himself from the sofa and proposed to open the box of dresses at once, and try them on.
“Charlie, you are a brick!—the very thing!”
“Oh! yes, yes; let us try them on!”
Molly broke through the eager voices: “And we have not done the ball-room yet!” she said reproachfully.