“There is nothing to do. Put on another dress, that is all. Mademoiselle must change as quick as she can. If I sponge the spots, I spoil the whole thing at once.”
“But you could cut them out, couldn’t you?” cried Peggy, the picture of woe, yet miserably eager to make what amends she could. “You could cut out the spots with sharp scissors, and the holes would not show, for the chiffon is so full and loose. I—I think I could do it, if you would let me try!”
Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman nodded slowly.
“Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time, but still, it can be done. It is the best plan.”
“Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and for pity’s sake, don’t cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!”
Lady Darcy swept out of the room, and the three girls were once more left alone, but how changed were their feelings in those few short moments! There was not the shadow of a smile between them; they looked more as if they were about to attend a funeral than a scene of festivity, and for several moments no one had the heart to speak. Peggy still held the fatal cork in her hand, and went through the work of polishing Mellicent’s slippers with an air of the profoundest dejection. When they were finished she handed them over in dreary silence, and was recommencing the brushing of her hair, when something in the expression of the chubby face arrested her attention. Her eyes flashed; she faced round with a frown and a quick “Well, what is it? What are you thinking now?”
“I—I wondered,” whispered Mellicent breathlessly, “if you did it on purpose! Did you mean to spoil her dress and make her change it?”
Peggy’s hands dropped to her side, her back straightened until she stood stiff and straight as a poker. Every atom of expression seemed to die out of her face. Her voice had a deadly quiet in its intonation.
“What do you think about it yourself?”
“I—I thought perhaps you did! She teased you, and you were so cross. You seemed to be standing so very near her, and you are jealous of her—and she looked so lovely! I thought perhaps you did....”