Nan thought that the delight of this day never could be equalled by anything life would bring, even at Beverley. To begin with, she and Miss Phyllis started out in a luxurious carriage, which rolled them through the town, past the butter shop, where Mrs. Rupert was standing in the doorway, and deposited them at Mr. Lennon's large store, into which Nan had never gone half so proudly before.
"You needn't appear to recognize any one, Nan," Miss Phyllis said, just as they went in; and this dashed Nan's spirits just a little, for Mary Seymour, one of the girls in the millinery-room, was a particular friend of her aunt's; but then Miss Phyllis must know best, thought Nan, and she would trust to luck's keeping Mary out of their way.
NAN PRESENTED TO MISS PHYLLIS FOR APPROVAL.
Everybody was most polite to Miss Rolf; and when she said quietly, "I want to see your handsomest dresses, ready made, for this little girl," Nan could hardly move to follow them upstairs. Out of a long case, dress after dress was taken, held up, tried on, examined, and criticised by Miss Phyllis, who sat languidly with her purse and her note-book, evidently quite regardless of prices. It was well Nan's opinion was not asked, for she would never have dared to choose what Miss Phyllis did for her, a soft, seal brown wool costume, handsomely trimmed with silk, and with a jacket to match. Miss Phyllis quietly desired Nan to put these garments on; and when the saleswoman brought her back from the dressing-room, her cousin could not repress a smile of satisfaction; and really little Nan did credit to the quiet, lady-like costume. Miss Phyllis saw a great many possibilities in the child's bright face and pretty, slender figure.
The hat question came next, and here Nan's joy was somewhat dampened by her fear that Mary Seymour would appear and claim acquaintance, and thereby annoy Miss Phyllis; and sure enough, while she was trying on a beautiful brown felt hat with a scarlet wing in it, Mary Seymour's voice was heard cheerily from across the room.
"Why, Nan Rolf," she was saying, "is that you?"
And then Nan saw that her princess could look very different on different occasions. She turned a cold little stare upon poor Mary, and then said, in a tone that the shop-girl could hear perfectly, "Who is that, Annice?"
Now it was the first time Nan had been called by her full name since her father died, and between the start it gave her, and her little worry about Mary Seymour, she hardly knew what to say, and stood looking guiltily at her aunt's friend, with a rush of color in her face.
"It is Mary Seymour," she said, in a low voice.