"That is no excuse at all," said Margaret, sweeping across the room with a curious air of self-consciousness, and arranging her drapery with infinite pains as she seated herself.
Richard looked puzzled for a moment, and then exclaimed, "Margaret, you have got on a long dress!"
"Yes," said Margaret, with dignity. "Do you like it,--the train?"
"That's a train?"
"Yes," said Margaret, standing up and glancing over her left shoulder at the soft folds of maroon-colored stuff, which, with a mysterious feminine movement of the foot, she caused to untwist itself and flow out gracefully behind her. There was really something very pretty in the hesitating lines of the tall, slender figure, as she leaned back that way. Certain unsuspected points emphasized themselves so cunningly.
"I never saw anything finer," declared Richard. "It was worth waiting for."
"But you shouldn't have waited," said Margaret, with a gratified flush, settling herself into the chair again. "It was understood that you were never to let me interfere with your work."
"You see you have, by being twenty minutes late. I've finished that acorn border for Stevens's capitals, and there's nothing more to do for the yard. I am going to make something for myself, and I want you to lend me a hand."
"How can I help you, Richard?" Margaret asked, promptly stopping the needle in the hem.
"I need a paper-weight to keep my sketches from being blown about, and I wish you literally to lend me a hand,--a hand to take a cast of."