"Fleda Ringgan," called out the voice of Constance from over the stairs, "is that you?"
"No," said Fleda.
"Well, just wait till I come down to you. My darling little Fleda, it's delicious of you to come so early. Now, just tell me, am I captivating?"
"Well, I retain self-possession," said Fleda. "I cannot tell about the strength of head of other people."
"You wretched little creature! Fleda, don't you admire my hair? it's new style, my dear just come out; the Delancys brought it out with them; Eloise Delancy taught it us; isn't it graceful? Nobody in New York has it yet, except the Delancys and we."
"How do you know but they have taught somebody else?" said
Fleda.
"I won't talk to you! Don't you like it?"
"I am not sure that I do not like you in your ordinary way better."
Constance made a gesture of impatience, and then pulled Fleda after her into the drawing-rooms.
"Come in here; I wont waste the elegancies of my toilet upon your dull perceptions; come here and let me show you some flowers aren't those lovely? This bunch came to-day, 'for Miss Evelyn', so Florence will have it it is hers, and it's very mean of her, for I am perfectly certain it is mine; it's come from somebody who wasn't enlightened on the subject of my family circle, and has innocently imagined that two Miss Evelyns could not belong to the same one! I know the floral representatives of all Florence's dear friends and admirers, and this isn't from any of them. I have been distractedly endeavouring all day to find who it came from, for if I don't, I can't take the least comfort in it."