“Just as you like,” was the indifferent answer. “Brandon is the comfort of my life, though she is such a cross old thing. Now, Bessie—I am going to call you Bessie, and I beg you to lay aside the stiff Miss Sefton—you must tell me if I can lend you anything, or help you in any way. And you are not to trouble about making yourself smart, for we have no one coming to dinner to-day, and I shall only put on an old dress. We are in the country now, and I don’t mean to waste my fine London gowns on Richard, who calls every material dimity, and never knows whether one is dressed in velvet or sackcloth.”
Bessie smiled, and then asked if she might use any of the flowers on her toilet-table.
“My dear child, just look behind you,” was the amused answer; and Bessie saw a breast-knot of lovely crimson roses on the writing-table. “Those are for your use to-night, but if you will let me know every morning what color you want for the evening, I will tell Brandon.”
As Bessie was unpacking, she heard a faint scratching at her door, and on opening it found, to her great surprise, Mac, the deerhound, sitting on his haunches, with a very pleading look in his beautiful brown eyes.
“You may come in if you like, old fellow,” she said, wondering at his sudden friendship for a stranger; and, sure enough, the hound walked in and stretched himself under the writing-table, with his nose between his paws, quietly observant of every movement.
When Bessie had finished her unpacking, she proceeded to brush out her bright, brown hair, and arrange it in her usual simple fashion. Then she put on the dress of cream-colored nun’s veiling, which was cut square and trimmed with her mother’s lace; and when she had clasped the pearls round her neck, and had pinned on her roses, she felt she had never been so well dressed in her life; and, indeed, the girl’s freshness and sweet expression made her very pleasant to look upon.
Bessie was sitting at the window thinking of Hatty when Edna entered, looking like a young princess to her dazzled eyes. The old gown proved to be a delicate blue silk, and was trimmed in a costly fashion, and she wore at her throat a locket with a diamond star. As she came sweeping into the room, with her long train and fair coronet of hair, she looked so graceful and so handsome that Bessie uttered an admiring exclamation.
“Oh, don’t look at me!” observed Edna rather pettishly. “I have told Brandon I really must discard this gown; it is getting too bad even for quiet evenings.”
“I think it lovely,” returned Bessie, much surprised at this remark. “I thought it was quite new.”
“Oh, no; it is nearly a year old, quite a patriarch in gowns; and, besides, I am getting so tired of blue. Mamma likes me best in white, and I agree with her; but you look very nice, Bessie, more like a crimson-tipped Daisy than ever. You remind me so of a daisy—a humble little modest, bright-eyed thing.”