"Busy, is she?" said Mr. Sherwood; "then go and relieve her, Gussie, for she has been up half the night and needs a rest," and raising his voice, called:
"Dexie, Dexie; come here."
Dexie was standing outside the door waiting for this summons, and she entered the room, her head still enveloped in the enormous sun-bonnet, her arms bare to the elbow, and her whole appearance proclaiming her a busy little woman.
"Did you call me, papa?" and she stepped to his side.
The contrast between them was too painful, and Gussie blushed with embarrassment, and hastily exclaimed:
"Leave the room, Dexie, Mr. Traverse is here."
"Where!" and the scoop-like bonnet was turned in his direction.
"Oh, good morning, Mr. Traverse. Excuse my toilet, but we wash sometimes at our house, and this is one of the times. Fine morning this for washerwomen. Now, what do you want of me, papa?" and she turned leisurely to her father again, much to Gussie's horror.
"Well, Traverse called to take you for a drive, but I doubt if he will care to ask you after seeing you in such a rig."
"This is not my carriage dress, my dear papa, but my working suit; but seeing that Mr. Traverse has been talking to me at the back gate in this very rig and survived the shock, I trust the second sight won't prove disastrous. If you say you can spare me, I'll promise not to appear in this costume in public. Thanks, papa. How soon do you wish to start, Mr. Traverse?"