“There’s quite a show of them,” admitted Oliver.
“And Reggie Mann! It was so queer, Allan! I never went shopping with a man before. And he’s so—so matter-of-fact. You know, he bought me—everything!”
“That was what he was told to do,” said Oliver. “Did you like him?”
“I don’t know,” said the girl. “He’s queer—I never met a man like that before. But he was awfully kind; and the people just turned their stores inside out for us—half a dozen people hurrying about to wait on you at once!”
“You’ll get used to such things,” said Oliver; and then, stepping toward the bed, “Let’s see what you got.”
“Most of the things haven’t come,” said Alice. “The gowns all have to be fitted.—That one is for to-night,” she added, as he lifted up a beautiful object made of rose-coloured chiffon.
Oliver studied it, and glanced once or twice at the girl. “I guess you can carry it,” he said. “What sort of a cloak are you to wear?”
“Oh, the cloak!” cried Alice. “Oliver, I can’t believe it’s really to belong to me. I didn’t know anyone but princesses wore such things.”
The cloak was in Mrs. Montague’s room, and one of the maids brought it in. It was an opera-wrap of grey brocade, lined with unborn baby lamb—a thing of a gorgeousness that made Montague literally gasp for breath.
“Did you ever see anything like it in your life?” cried Alice. “And Oliver, is it true that I have to have gloves and shoes and stockings—and a hat—to match every gown?”