Jean laughed. "It is because Hilda is away, and other things. But I can't tell you now."
Then for fear Emily might be hurt by her secrecy, she flew to kiss her and again call her "Darling."
At noon she put on her hat and ran home, or at least her heart ran, and when she reached the house she sought the kitchen.
"I am having company for tea, Ellen—at four. And I want Lady-bread-and-butter, and oh, Ellen, will you have time for little pound cakes?"
She knew of course that pound cakes were—verboten. She felt, however, that even Mr. Hoover might sanction a fatted calf in the face of this supreme event.
She planned that she would receive Derry in the small drawing room. It was an informal room which had been kept by her mother for intimate friends. There was a wide window which faced west, a davenport in deep rose velvet, some chairs to match, and there were always roses in an old blue bowl.
Jean knew the dress she was going to wear in this room—of blue to match the bowl, with silver lace, and a girdle of pink brocade.
Alone in her room with Polly-Ann to watch proceedings, she got out the lovely gown.
"Oh, I do want to be pretty, Polly-Ann," she said with much wistfulness.
Yet when she was all hooked and snapped into it, she surveyed herself with some dissatisfaction in the mirror.