"By the way, I admire your style extremely; but of course no one could imitate it who was not blessed with a heavy suit of natural curls. You always wear it one way, don't you?"
"Yes, papa likes it so, but until within the last year, he would not let me have it in a comb at all."
She wore it now gathered into a loose knot behind, and falling over a comb, in a rich mass of shining curls, while in front it waved and rippled above her white forehead, or fell over it, in soft, tiny, golden brown rings.
"It is so beautiful!" continued Lottie, passing her hand caressingly over it; "and so is its wearer. Oh, if I were only a gentleman!"
"You don't wish it," said Elsie, laughing. "I don't believe a real, womanly woman ever does."
"You don't, hey? Well, I must go; for I've a lot to do to Lot King's wearing apparel. Adieu, mon cher. Nay, don't disturb yourself to come to the door."
Elsie came down to tea ready dressed for the evening, in simple white, with a white rose in her hair.
"I like your taste in dress, child," said Aunt Wealthy, regarding her with affectionate admiration. "The rose in your hair is lovely, and you seem to me like a fresh, fair, sweet flower, yourself."
"Ah, how pleasant it is to be loved, auntie, for love always sees through rose-colored spectacles," answered the young girl gayly.
"I promised Lottie to run in there for a moment to give my opinion about their appearance," she said, as they rose from the table. "I'll not be gone long; and they're to come in and go with us."
She found her friends in the midst of their hair-dressing.
"Isn't it a bore?" cried Lottie. "How fortunate you are in never having to do this for yourself."
"Why," said Elsie, "I was just admiring your independence, and feeling ashamed of my own helplessness."
"Did you ever try it," asked Nettie; "doing your own hair, I mean?"
"No, never."
"Did you ever dress yourself?"
"No, I own that I have never so much as put on my own shoes and stockings," Elsie answered with a blush, really mortified at the thought.
"Well, it is rather nice to be able to help yourself," remarked Lottie complacently. "There! mine's done; what do you think of it, Miss Dinsmore?"
"That it is very pretty and extremely becoming. Girls, mammy will dress your hair for you at any time, if you wish."
"Oh, a thousand thanks!" exclaimed Nettie. "Do you think she would be willing to come over and do mine now? I really can't get it to suit me, and I know Lot wants to put on her dress."
"Yes, I'll go back and send her."
"Oh, no; don't go yet; can't we send for her?"
"That would do; but I told Aunt Wealthy I wouldn't stay long; so I think I'd better go. Perhaps I can be of use to her."
"I don't believe she'll need any help with her toilet," said Lottie, "she does it all her own way; but I daresay she grudges every minute of your company. I know I should. Isn't she sweet and lovely, and good as she can be?" she added to her sister as Elsie left the room.
"Yes, and how tastefully she dresses; everything is rich and beautiful, yet so simply elegant; what magnificent lace she wears, and what jewelry; yet not a bit too much of either."
"And she knows all about harmony of colors, and what suits her style; though I believe she would look well in anything."
There was a communicating gate between Dr. King's grounds and Miss Stanhope's, and Elsie gained her aunt's house by crossing the two gardens. As she stepped upon the porch, she saw Mr. Egerton standing before the door.
"Good-evening, Miss Dinsmore," he said, bowing and smiling. "I was just about to ring; but I presume that is not necessary now."
"No, not at all. Walk into the parlor, and help yourself to a seat. And if you will please excuse me I shall be there in a moment."
"I came to ask if I might have the pleasure of escorting you to the party," he said laughingly, as she returned from giving Chloe her directions, and asking if her aunt needed any assistance.
"Thank you; but you are taking unnecessary trouble," she answered gayly, "since it is only across the street, and there are four of us to keep each other company."
"The Misses King are going with you?"
"Yes; they are not quite ready yet; but it is surely too early to think of going?"
"A little; but Mrs. Schilling is anxious to see you as soon as possible; particularly as she understands there is no hope of keeping you after ten o'clock. Do you really always observe such early hours?"
"As a rule, yes. I believe the medical authorities agree that it is the way to retain one's youth and health."
"And beauty," he added, with an admiring glance at her blooming face.
* * * * *
"I do believe we shall be almost the first; very unfashionably early," remarked Nettie King, as their little party crossed the street.
"We are not the first, I have seen several go in," rejoined Aunt Wealthy, as Mr. Egerton held open the gate for them to pass in.
Mrs. Schilling in gay attire, streamers flying, cheeks glowing, and eyes beaming with delight, met them at the door, and invited them to enter.
"Oh, ladies, good-evening. How do you all do? I'm powerful glad you came so early. Walk right into the parlor."
She ushered them in as she spoke. Four or five young misses were standing about the centre-table, looking at prints, magazines, and photographs, while Lenwilla Ellawea, arrayed in her Sunday best, had ensconced herself in a large cushioned rocking-chair; she was leaning lazily back in it, and stretching out her feet in a way to show her shoes and stockings to full advantage. Mrs. Schilling had singular taste in dress. The child wore a Swiss muslin over a red flannel skirt, and her lower limbs were encased in black stockings and blue shoes.
"Daughter Lenwilla Ellawea, subside that chair!" exclaimed the mother, with a wave of her hand. "You should know better than to take the best seat, when ladies are standing. Miss Stanhope, do me the honor to take that chair. I assure you, you will find it most commodious. Take a seat on the sofy, Miss Dinsmore, and—ah, that is right, Mr. Egerton, you know how to attend to the ladies."
Greetings and introductions were exchanged; an uncomfortable pause followed, then a young lady, with a magazine open on the table before her, broke the silence by remarking: "What sweet verses these are!"
"Yes," said Mrs. Schilling, looking over her shoulder, "I quite agree in that sentiment. Indeed, she's my favorite author."
"Who?" asked Mr. Egerton.
"Anon."
"Ah! does she write much for that periodical?" he asked, with assumed gravity.
"Oh, yes, she has a piece in nearly every number; sometimes two of 'em."
"That's my pap, that is," said Lenwilla Ellawea, addressing a second young lady, who was slowly turning the leaves of a photograph album.
"Is it?"
"Yes, and we've got two or three other picters of him."
"Photographs, Lenwilla Ellawea," corrected her mother. "Yes, we've got several. Miss Stanhope, do you know there's a sculpture in town? and what do you think? He wants to make a basque relief out o' one o' them photographs of my 'Lijah. But I don't know as I'll let him. Would you?"
A smile trembled about the corners of Elsie's lips, and she carefully avoided the glance of Lottie's eyes, which she knew were dancing with fun, while there was a half-suppressed titter from the girls at the table.
"I really can't say I understand exactly what it is,"