CHAPTER XV
[DOROTHY GILBERT OF NEWCASTER]
Mrs Vernon was standing looking out on to the lawn, pinning some flowers in her blouse. Her daughter, coming on her from behind, laid her hands upon her shoulders, and then her cheek against her mother's. The mother, continuing to arrange her flowers, suffered the soft cheek to remain against her own, for some seconds, in silence.
"Well, are we ready? The people will be coming directly--we told them four. Some of Jim's friends appear to have come early, judging from the group of what seem to be boys he has with him at the end of the lawn."
"So I see. Jim's friends have hours of their own--they don't care what time people put on cards. Mother, I'm worried about Dorothy."
"Doesn't the dress fit?"
"Perfectly!--and the hat; and the hairdressing is a complete success. She looks lovely, as I told her she would do--she's certain to cut me out."
"I don't think you're afraid of that."
Frances sighed.
"I'm not--if only for the simple reason that she won't even try."