She found her aunt's house in a state of preparation; covers off the drawing-room furniture, greens disposed about the walls, servants busy. Mrs. Busby was in her dressing-room; and there too, on the sofa, in mere wantonness of idleness, for she was not sick, lay Antoinette; a somewhat striking figure, in a dress of white silk, and looking very pretty indeed. Also looking as if she knew it.
"Good morning, Rotha!" she cried. "This is the dress I am to wear to- morrow. I'm trying it on."
"She's very ridiculous," Mrs. Busby remarked, in a smiling tone of complacency.
"What is to be to-morrow?" Rotha inquired pleasantly. The question brought Antoinette up to a sitting posture.
"Why don't you know?" she said. "Don't you know? Mamma, is it possible anybody of Rotha's size shouldn't know what day New Year's is?"
"New Year's! O yes, I remember; people make visits, don't they?"
"Gentlemen; and ladies receive visits. It is the greatest day of all the year, if you have visitors enough. And I eat supper all day long. We have a supper table set, and hot oysters, and ice cream, and coffee, and cake; and I never want any dinner when it comes."
"That is a very foolish way," said her mother. "Did you bring the stockings, Rotha?"
Silently, she could not say anything "pleasantly" at the moment, Rotha delivered her package of stockings neatly put up. Mrs. Busby opened and examined, Antoinette running up to look too.
"Mamma! how ridiculously nice!" she exclaimed. "You never gave me any as good as those."