“A perfect woman,” thought Maisie. “She is more than beautiful. She is magnificent—and when she has been dressed properly——”
Her thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Julia and the cloak model and fitter. Thereafter, for an hour, Tamea dwelt in paradise. Maisie’s taste, in the matter of dress, was undoubtedly exquisite, and when she discovered that this exotic islander could wear with dignity raiment which, on another woman, would be regarded as flamboyant, Maisie felt that quiet joy which comes to all women who discover beauty or help to create it. Tamea, too, developed all of the interest of her sex in the beautiful garments submitted for her selection; so engrossing was that interest that by the time Rubenstein had departed Tamea’s drooping spirits had been more than a little uplifted. She commanded Julia to summon Dan to admire such portions of her wardrobe as she had already selected.
“My dear, but you must wait until you are fully dressed,” Mrs. Pippy cautioned her. Tamea was barefooted and wearing the skirt of a ready-made tailored suit, but not the coat; neither was she wearing waist or brassiere.
“Why?” she demanded coolly. “Why should I demand of Monsieur Dan Pritchard that he wait upon my pleasure?”
“But you can’t receive him half dressed.”
Tamea, for answer, took from the dresser a large framed photograph of Maisie Morrison in evening dress. “Mademoiselle Maisie was but half dressed when she had this photograph made. Julia, call Monsieur Dan Pritchard.”
Mrs. Pippy’s cold blue eye warned Julia that the price of obedience might be prohibitive. Julia hesitated.
Tamea, Queen of Riva, stamped a bare foot. “Obey me!” she commanded.
“Och, sure now, Tammy, darlin’, listen to Mrs. Pippy, there’s a dear——”
“There will be no talk. Obey!”