Dexie's appearance was heralded by a number of little voices, as she made her way to the sewing-room with heightened color and eyes bright with unshed tears.
"I beg pardon of each one of you, separately and collectively," Dexie began. "I never dreamed that my fit of temper was going to affect both households. You are more than kind, and I have no words to thank you."
"Well, don't do it, then," said Elsie; "save your breath, and run upstairs and see your dress, instead. Come, let me show you the finery."
"Where is your mother? I must see her a moment. How does my nose look now, Elsie?" she added, as they went through the hall.
"It looks as if it ought to be tweaked again, you bad girl! But oh, Dexie! your dress is lovely."
And so thought Dexie herself as she stood by the bed whereon it lay, and she bitterly reproached herself for the anxiety her waywardness had caused.
Tears were in her eyes as Mrs. Gurney came quietly into the room.
"Dear Mrs. Gurney—" She could say no more, but the eloquent eyes told the story quite as well as if it had been spoken by the quivering lips.
"There, my dear! There! never mind. It was only a mistake, and we all make mistakes sometimes; so don't fret any more. See how nicely we have managed. Do you like it, my dear?"
"So very much that I feel I shall never be able to repay you for the trouble"—her eyes still full of tears.