"Put on," I bade her, "your black grosgrain silk with the white turnovers—and mind you don't slit it up the back seam!"
"I'm a-goin' to do my dishes up," said Calliope. "Can't you set a spell and talk it over?"
"Hurry," I commanded, "or we shall miss the six-ten express!"
"What do you mean?" she asked in alarm.
"Leave everything," said I. "There's a box waiting for us at the opera to-night. And supper afterward."
"You ain't—" she said tremulously.
"I am," I assured her firmly, "and so are you. And Hannah and Henry are going with us. Hurry!"
IV
"He promised to buy me a bunch of blue ribbons"
is, in effect, the spirit of the "Ah, je ris de me voir si belle" of "Marguerite" when she opens the casket of jewels. As we sat, the four of us, in the dimness of the opera box—Calliope in her black silk with the white turnovers, Hannah in her "regular brown Sunday suit," and Henry and I, it seemed to me that Marguerite's song was really concerning the delight of rose-pink silk. And I found myself grieving anew for the innocent hopes that had been dissolved, immaterial as Abe Hawley's message from the grave.