There was indeed no girl in Frederickstown who could claim to be quite as pretty as Lily Deacon. Slender and small, with a little tip-tilted nose, which gave the most unexpected and charming spice of coquetry to her delicate face, with large serious blue eyes, and glossy black hair so neatly coiled on the nape of her neck, with beautifully drawn eyebrows, and a tiny mole at the corner of her under lip, accentuating the whiteness of her skin, she would have drawn her tributes of admiration from any pair of eyes that rested on her—and would have been perfectly blind to them. Lily’s mother would not have allowed her for a moment to imagine that she was pretty, and Lily never thought of disobeying mamma. Prettiness, according to Mrs. Deacon’s severe judgement, counted for nothing; as she had once observed, “It was only as deep as the epidermis.” Elegance alone was desirable. You should never say that you were “hot”—a lady spoke of being “warm.” And the word “scared” was abominable; you should speak of being “startled” or “alarmed.” Lily was almost perfectly elegant. She wore a silk dress, and her pink nails were polished, and even when she sat at the piano, she was so afraid of not having her feet demurely crossed, that she did not dare to use the pedals.
“But, Miss Lily, don’t you ever sing anything but scales?” demanded Jane presently. Miss Deacon jumped, put her hand to her throat, and then slowly turned her head.
“Oh—Janey! How you sc-alarmed me!”
“I’m sorry,” said Jane, “Elise told me to give you these patterns. Here they are in my bag. No—I don’t believe she put ’em in at all. Well, then it’s her fault this time—no, here they are.”
“Thank you so much. How thoughtful of you. Won’t you come in?”
“Well, you’re practising, aren’t you?”
Lily shook her head.
“It’s nearly five. And I’m tired.”
“What a lovely day it is,” she got up, and came to the window, where she stood, looking up the street, one hand resting on the frame above her head. The wind ruffled her hair a little, and blew the end of her lacy kerchief against her cheek, shaking free a faint scent of sachet.
She sighed gently, and a momentary frown ruffled her smooth forehead.