“Ho! ho! ho! I hope you are warm enough! Esther looks like a sausage, and Mellicent looks like a dumpling. Come here, and I’ll unwind you. You look as if you could not move an inch, hand or foot.”
“It was mother,” Mellicent explained. “She was so afraid we would catch cold. Oh, Peggy, you are not half dressed. You will be late! Whatever have you been doing? Have you had a nice day? Did you enjoy it? What did you have for dinner?”
Peggy waved her brush towards the door in dramatic warning.
“Rosalind’s room!” she whispered. “Don’t yell, my love, unless you wish every word to be overheard. This is her dressing-room which she lent to me for the occasion, so there’s only a door between us.—There, now, you are free. Oh, dear me, how you have squashed your sash! You really must remember to lift it up when you sit down. You had better stand with your back to the fire to take out the creases.”
Mellicent’s face clouded for a moment but brightened again as she caught sight of her reflection in the swing glass. Crumples or no crumples, there was no denying that blue was a becoming colour. The plump, rosy cheeks dimpled with satisfaction, and the flaxen head was twisted to and fro to survey herself in every possible position.
“Is my hair right at the back? How does the bow look? I haven’t burst, have I? I thought I heard something crack in the cab. Do you think I will do?”
“Put on your slippers and I’ll tell you. Anyone would look a fright in evening dress and snow shoes.”
Peggy’s answer was given with a severity which sent Mellicent waddling across the room to turn out the contents of the bag which lay on the couch, but the next moment came a squeal of consternation, and there she stood in the attitude of a tragedy queen, with staring eyes, parted lips, and two shabby black slippers grasped in either hand.
“M—m—m—my old ones!” she gasped in horror-stricken accents. “B—b—b—brought them by mistake!” It was some moments before her companions fully grasped the situation, for the new slippers had been black too, and of much the same make as those now exhibited. Mrs. Asplin had had many yearnings over white shoes and stockings, all silk and satin, and tinkling diamond buckles like those which had been displayed in Peggy’s dress-box. Why should not her darlings have dainty possessions like other girls? It went to her heart to think what an improvement these two articles would make in the simple costumes, then she remembered her husband’s delicate health, his exhaustion at the end of the day, and the painful effort with which he nerved himself to fresh exertions, and felt a bigger pang at the thought of wasting money so hardly earned. As her custom was on such occasions she put the whole matter before the girls, talking to them as friends, and asking their help in her decision.
“You see, darlings,” she said, “I want to do my very best for you, and if it would be a real disappointment not to have these things, I’ll manage it somehow, for once in a way. But it’s a question whether you would have another chance of wearing them, and it seems a great deal of money to spend for just one evening, when poor dear father——”