“Yes, I’d like it much – much the best,” said Sylvia. “I am afraid of Lady Frances. And Miss Audrey can be very rude. She was very chuff with me on New Year’s Day.”
“She won’t be chuff with you in my presence,” said Evelyn. “Ah! here comes Jasper.”
Jasper, looking slightly excited, now appeared on the scene.
“Well, my darling!” she said. She rushed up to Evelyn and clasped her in her arms. “Oh, my own sweet Eve, and how are you getting on?” she exclaimed. “I am thinking this is not the place for you.”
“We will talk of that another time, please, Jasper,” said Evelyn, with unwonted dignity. “I have brought a friend to lunch with me. This young lady is called Miss Sylvia Leeson, and she is awfully hungry, and we’d both like a big lunch in this room. Can you smuggle things up, Jasper?”
“Her ladyship will be mad,” exclaimed Jasper. “I was told in the servants’ hall that she was downright annoyed at your not going to breakfast; if you are not at lunch she will move heaven and earth.”
“Let her; it will be fun,” said Evelyn. “I am going to lunch here with my friend Sylvia Leeson. Bring a lot of things up, Jasper – good things, rich things, tempting things; you know what sort I like.”
“I’ll try if there is a bit of pork and some mincepies and plum-pudding and cream and such-like down-stairs. And you’d fancy your chocolate, would you not?”
“Rather! Get all you can, and be as quick as ever you can.”
Jasper accordingly withdrew, and in a short time appeared with a laden tray in her hands.
“I had to run the gauntlet of the footman and the butler too; and what they will tell Lady Frances goodness knows, but I do not,” answered Jasper. “But there, if things have to come to a crisis, why, they must. You will not forget me when the storm breaks, will you, Evelyn?”
“I’ll never forget you,” said Evelyn, with enthusiasm. “You are the dearest and darlingest thing left now that mothery is in heaven; and Sylvia will love you too. I have been telling her all about you. – Now, Sylvia, you will not be hungry long.”
CHAPTER VII. – STAYING TO DINNER
Again at luncheon that day Evelyn was missing. Lady Frances looked round: Audrey was in her place; Miss Sinclair was seated not far away; the Squire took the foot of the table; the servants handed round the different dishes; but still no Evelyn had put in an appearance.
“I wonder where she can be,” said the Squire. “She looked a little wild and upset when she left me. Poor little girl! Do you know, Frances, I feel very sorry for her.”
“More than I do,” said Lady Frances, who at the same time had an uncomfortable remembrance of the look Evelyn had given her when she had left her presence. “Don’t let us talk any more about her now, Edward,” she said to her husband. “There is only one thing to be done for the child, and that I will tell you by and by.”
The Squire was accustomed to attend to his wife’s wishes on all occasions, and he said nothing further. Audrey felt constrained and uncomfortable. After a slight hesitation she said:
“Do let me find Evelyn, mother. I have been expecting her to join me the whole morning. She does not, of course, know about our rules yet.”
“No, Audrey,” said her mother; “I prefer that you should not leave the table. – Miss Sinclair, perhaps you will oblige me. Will you go to Evelyn’s room and tell her that we are at lunch?”
Miss Sinclair rose at once. She was absent for about five minutes. When she came back there was a distressed look on her face.
“Well, Jenny, well?” said Audrey in a voice of suppressed excitement. “Is she coming?”
“I think not,” said Miss Sinclair. – “I will explain matters to you, Lady Frances, afterwards.”
“Dear, dear!” said the Squire. “What a lot of explanations seem to be necessary with regard to the conduct of one small girl!”
“But she is a very important small girl, is she not, father?” said Audrey.
“Well, yes, dear; and I should like to say now that I take an interest in her – in fact,” he added, looking round him, for the servants had withdrawn, “I am prepared to love little Eve very much indeed.”
Lady Frances’s eyes flashed a somewhat indignant fire. Then she said slowly:
“As you speak so frankly, Edward, I must do likewise. I never saw a more hopeless child. There seems to be nothing whatever for it but to send her to school for a couple of years.”
“No,” said the Squire, “I will not allow that. We never sent Audrey to school, and I will have no difference made with regard to Evelyn’s education. All that money can secure must be provided for her, but I do not care for school-life for girls.”
Lady Frances said nothing further. She was a woman with tact, and would not on any consideration oppose her husband in public. All the same, she secretly made up her mind that if Evelyn proved unmanageable she was not to stay at Wynford Castle.
“And there is another thing,” continued the Squire. “This is her first day in her future home. I do not wish her to be punished whatever she may have done. I should like her to have absolute freedom until to-morrow morning.”
“It shall be exactly as you wish, Edward,” said Lady Frances. “I did intend to seek Evelyn out; I did intend further to question Miss Sinclair as to the reason why Evelyn did not appear at lunch; but I will defer these things. It happens to be somewhat convenient, as I want to pay some calls this afternoon; and really, with that child on my brain, I should not enjoy my visits. You, Audrey dear, will see to your cousin’s comforts, and when she is inclined to give you her society you will be ready to welcome her. Your young friends will not arrive until just before dinner. Please, at least use your influence, Audrey, to prevent Evelyn making a too extraordinary appearance to-night. Now I think that is all, and I must run off if I am to be in time to receive my guests.”
Lady Frances left the room, and Audrey went to her governess’s side.
“What is it?” she said. “You did look strange, Jenny, when you came into the room just now. Where is Evelyn? Why did she not come to lunch?”
“It is the greatest possible mercy,” said Miss Sinclair, “that Evelyn is allowed to have one free day, for perhaps – although I feel by no means sure – you and I may influence her for her own good to-night. But what do you think has happened? I went to her room and knocked at the door of the boudoir. I heard voices within. The door was immediately opened by the maid Jasper, and I saw Evelyn seated at a table, eating a most extraordinary kind of lunch, in the company of a girl whom I have never seen before.”
“Oh Jenny,” cried Audrey, “how frightfully exciting! A strange girl! Surely Evelyn did not bring a stranger with her and hide her somewhere last night?”
“No, dear, no,” said Miss Sinclair, laughing; “she did nothing of that sort. I fancy the girl must live in the neighborhood, although her face is unfamiliar to me. She is rather a pretty girl, but by no means the sort that your mother would approve of as a companion for your cousin.”
“What is she like?” asked Audrey in a grave voice.
Miss Sinclair proceeded to describe Sylvia’s appearance. She was interrupted in the middle of her description by a cry from Audrey.
“Oh dear!” she exclaimed, “you must have seen that curious girl, Sylvia Leeson. Your description is exactly like her. Well, as this is a free day, and we can do pretty much what we like, I will run straight up to Evelyn’s room and look for myself.”
“Do Audrey; I think on the whole it would be the best plan.”
So Audrey ran up-stairs, and soon her tap was heard on Evelyn’s door; the next moment she found herself in the presence of a very untidy, disheveled-looking cousin, and also in that of handsome Sylvia Leeson.
Sylvia dropped a sort of mock courtesy when she saw Audrey.
“My Shakespearian contemporary!” was her remark. “Well, Audrey, and how goes the Forest of Arden? And have you yet met Touchstone?”
Audrey colored very high at what she considered a direct impertinence.
“What are you doing here?” she said. “My mother does not know your mother.”
Sylvia gave a ringing laugh.
“I met this lady,” she said – and she pointed in Evelyn’s direction – “and she invited me here. I have had lunch with her, and I am no longer hungry. This is her room, is it not?”
“I should just think it is,” said Evelyn; “and I only invite those people whom I care about to come into it.” She said the words in a very pointed way, but Audrey had now recovered both her dignity and good-nature.
She laughed.
“Really we three are too silly,” she said. “Evelyn, you cannot mean the ridiculous words you say! As if any room in my father’s house is not free to me when I choose to go there! Now, whether you like it or not, I am determined to be friends with you. I do not want to scold you or lecture you, for it is not my place, but I intend to sit down although you have not the civility to offer me a chair; and I intend to ask again why Miss Leeson is here.”
“I came because Evelyn asked me,” said Sylvia; and then, all of a sudden, an unexpected change came over her face. Her pretty, bright eyes, with a sort of robin-redbreast look in them, softened and melted, and then grew brighter than ever through tears. She went up to Audrey and knelt at her feet.
“Why should not I come? Why should not I be happy?” she said. “I am a very lonely girl; why should you grudge me a little happiness?”
Audrey looked at her in amazement; then a change came over her own face. She allowed her hand just for an instant to touch the hand of Sylvia, and her eyes looked into the wild eyes of the shabby girl who was kneeling before her.
“Get up,” she said. “You have no right to take that attitude to me. As you are here, sit down. I do not want to be rude to you; far from that. I should like to make you happy.”
“Should you really?” answered Sylvia. “You can do it, you know.”
“Sylvia,” interrupted Evelyn, “what does this mean? You and I have been talking in a very frank way about Audrey. We have neither of us been expressing any enthusiastic opinions with regard to her; and yet now – and yet now – ”
“Oh, let me be, Eve,” replied Sylvia. “I like Audrey. I liked her the other day. It is true I was afraid of her, and I was crushed by her, but I liked her; and I like her better now, and if she will be my friend I am quite determined to be hers.”
“Then you do not care for me?” said Evelyn, getting up and strutting across the room.
Sylvia looked at Audrey, whose eyes, however, would not smile, and whose face was once more cold and haughty.
“Evelyn,” she said, “I must ask you to try and remember that you are a lady, and not to talk in this way before anybody but me. I am your cousin, and when you are alone with me I give you leave to talk as you please. But now the question is this: I do not in the least care what Sylvia said of me behind my back. I hope I know better than to wish to find out what I was never meant to hear. This is a free country, and any girl in England can talk of me as she pleases – I am not afraid – that is, she can talk of me as she pleases when I am absent. But what I want to do now is to answer Sylvia’s question. She is unhappy, and she has thrown herself on me. – What can I do, Sylvia, to make you happy?”
Sylvia was standing huddled up against the wall. Her pretty shoulders were hitched to her ears; her hair was disheveled and fell partly over her forehead; her eyes gleamed out under their thick thatch of black hair like wild birds in a nest; her coral lips trembled, there was just a gleam of snowy teeth, and then she said impulsively:
“You are a darling, and you can do one thing. Let me for to-day forget that I am poor and hungry and very lonely and very sad. Let me share your love and Evelyn’s love for just one whole day.”
“But there are people coming to-night, Sylvia,” said Evelyn. “I heard Jasper speak of it. Lots of people – grandees, you know.”
Sylvia shuddered slightly.
“We never say that sort of word now in England,” she remarked; and she added: “I am well-born too. There was a time when I should not have been at all shy of Audrey Wynford.”
“You are very queer,” said Evelyn. “I do not know that I particularly want you for a friend.”
“Well, never mind; I think I can get you to love me,” said Sylvia. “But now the question is this: Will Audrey let me stay or will she not? Will you, Audrey – will you – just because my name is Sylvia and we have met in the Forest of Arden?”
“Oh dear,” said Audrey, “what a difficult question you ask! And how can I answer it? I dare not give you leave all by myself, but I will go and inquire.”
Audrey ran immediately out of the room.
“What a wonderful change has come into my life!” she said to herself as she flew down-stairs and looked into different rooms, but all in vain, for Miss Sinclair.
Her mother was out; it was hopeless to think of appealing to her. Without the permission of some one older than herself she could not possibly ask Sylvia to stay. Sylvia could be more or less lost in the crowd of children who would be at the Castle that evening, but her mother’s eyes would quickly seek out the unfamiliar face, inquiries would be made, and – in short, Audrey did not dare to take this responsibility on herself. She was rushing up-stairs again, prepared to tell Sylvia that she could not grant her request, when she came plump up against her father.
“My dear girl, what a hurry you are in!” he exclaimed.
“Oh yes, father,” replied Audrey. “I am excited. The house is full of life and almost mystery.”
“Then you like your cousin to be here?” said the Squire, and his face brightened.
“Yes and no,” answered Audrey truthfully. “But, father, I have a great request to make. You know you said that Evelyn was to have a free day to-day in which she could do as she pleased. She has a guest up-stairs whom she would like to ask to stay. May she ask her, father? She is a girl, and lonely and pretty, and, I think, on the whole, a lady. May we both ask her to dinner and to spend the evening? And will you, father, take the responsibility?”
“Of course – of course,” said the Squire.
“Will you explain to mother when she returns?”
“Yes, my dear – certainly. Ask anybody you please; I never restrain you with regard to your friends. Now do not keep me, my love; I am going out immediately.”
CHAPTER VIII. – EVENING-DRESS
When Audrey re-entered Evelyn’s pretty boudoir she found the two girls standing close together and talking earnestly. Jasper also was joining in the conversation. Audrey felt her heart sink.
“How can Evelyn make free with Jasper as she does? And why does Sylvia talk to Evelyn as though they were having secrets together? Why, they only met to-day!” was the girl’s thought. Her tone, therefore, was cold.
“I met father, and he says you may stay,” she remarked in a careless voice. “And now, as doubtless you will be quite happy, I will run away and leave you, for I have much to do.”
“No, no; not until I have thanked you and kissed you first,” said Sylvia.
Audrey did not wish Sylvia to kiss her, but she could not make any open objection. She scarcely returned the girl’s warm embrace, and the next moment had left the room.
“Is she not a horror?” said Evelyn. “I began by liking her – I mean I rather liked her. She had a grand sort of manner, and her eyes are handsome, but I hate her now. She is not half, nor quarter, as pretty as you are, Sylvia. And, oh, Sylvia, you will be my friend – my true, true friend – for I am so lonely now that mothery is dead!”
Sylvia was standing by the fire. There was a bright color in both her cheeks, and her eyes shone vividly.
“My mother died too,” she said. “I was happy while she lived. Yes, Eve, I will be your friend if you like.”
“It will be all the better for you,” said Evelyn, who could never long forget her own importance. “If I take to you there is no saying what may happen, for, whatever lies before me in the future, I am my Uncle Edward’s heiress; and Audrey, for all her pride, is nobody.”
“Audrey looks much more suitable,” said Sylvia, and then she stopped, partly amused and partly frightened by the look in Evelyn’s light-brown eyes.
“How dare you!” she cried. “How horrid – how horrid of you! After all, I do not know that I want to see too much of you. You had better be careful what sort of things you say to me. And first of all, if I am to see any more of you, you must tell me why Audrey would make a better heiress than I shall.”
“Oh, never mind,” said Sylvia; but then she added: “Why should I not tell you? She is tall and graceful and very, very lovely, and she has the manners of a grande dame although she is such a young girl. Any one in all the world can see that Audrey is to the manner born, whereas you – ”
Evelyn looked almost frightened while Sylvia was talking.
“Is that really so?” she answered. “I ought to be just mad with you, but I’m not. Before the year is out no one will compare Audrey and me. I shall be much, much the finest lady – much, much the grandest. I vow it; I declare it; I will do it; and you, Sylvia, shall help me.”
“Oh, I have no objection,” said Sylvia. “I am very glad indeed that you will want my help, and I am sure you are heartily welcome.”
Evelyn looked full up at Sylvia. Jasper had left the two girls together. The only light in the room now was the firelight, for the short winter day was drawing to an end.
“You, I suppose,” said Evelyn, “are a lady although you do wear such a shabby dress and you suffer so terribly from hunger?”
“How do you know?” asked Sylvia.
“First, because you are not afraid of anything; and second, because you are graceful and, although you are so very queer, your voice has a gentle sound. You are a lady by birth, are you not?”
“Yes,” said Sylvia simply. She neither added to the word not took from it. She became very silent and thoughtful.
“Why do you live in such a funny way? Why are you not educated like other girls? And why will you tell me nothing about your home?”
“I have nothing to tell. My father and I came to live at The Priory three months ago. He does not care for society, and he does not wish me to leave him.”
“And you are poor?”
“No,” said Sylvia.
“Not poor! And yet, why are you almost in rags? And you did eat up your lunch so greedily!”
“I will answer nothing more, Evelyn. If you do not like me as I am, let me go now, and I will try to forget the beautiful, comfortable Castle, and the lovely meals, and you and your queer maid Jasper, and the beautiful girl Audrey; for if you do not want me as I am, you can never get me any other way. I am a lady, and we are not poor. Now are you satisfied?”
“I burn with curiosity,” said Evelyn; “and if mothery were alive, would she not get it out of you! But if you wish it – and your eyes do look as if they were daggers – I will change the subject. What shall we do for the rest of the day? Shall we go out and take a walk in the dark?”
“Yes; that would be lovely,” cried Sylvia.
Evelyn shouted in an imperious way to Jasper.
“Bring my fur cloak,” she said, “and my goloshes. I won’t wear anything over my head. I am going out with Miss Sylvia Leeson.”
Jasper brought Evelyn’s cloak, which was lined with the most lovely squirrel inside and covered with bright crimson outside, and put it over her shoulders. Sylvia in her very shabby black cloth jacket, much too short in the waist and in the arms, accompanied her. They ran down-stairs and went out into the grounds.
Now, if there was one thing more than another which would hopelessly displease Lady Frances, it was the idea of any of her relations wandering about after dusk. But luckily for Evelyn, and luckily also for poor Sylvia, Lady Frances was some miles from Wynford Castle at that moment. The girls rushed about, and soon Evelyn forgot all her restraints and shouted noisily. They played hide-and-seek amongst the trees in the plantation. Sylvia echoed Evelyn’s shouts; and the Squire, who was returning to the house in time to meet his guests, paused and listened in much amazement to these unusual sounds of girlish laughter. There came a shrill shriek, and then the cry, “Here I am – seek and find,” and then another ringing peal of girlish merriment.
“Surely that cannot be Audrey!” he said to himself. “What extraordinary noises!”
He went into the house. From his study window he saw the flash of a lantern, which lit up a red cloak, and for an instant he observed the very light hair and white face of his niece. But who was the girl with her – a tall, shabby-looking girl – about the height of his Audrey, too? It could not be Audrey! He sank down into a chair, and a look of perplexity crossed his face.
“What am I to do with that poor child?” he said to himself. “What extraordinary, unpardonable conduct! Well, I will not tell Lady Frances. I determined that the child should have one day of liberty, but I am glad I did not make it more than one.”
After Evelyn and Sylvia had quite exhausted themselves they returned to the house.
Jasper was ready for them. She had laid out several dresses for Evelyn to select from.
“I have just had a message from her ladyship,” she said when the girls came in with their cheeks glowing and eyes full of laughter. “All the young people are to dine with the family to-night. As a rule, when there is company the younger members of the house dine in the schoolroom, but to-night you are all to be together. I got the message from that stuck-up footman Scott. I hate the fellow; he had the impudence to say that he did not think I was suited to my post.”
“He had better not say it again,” cried Evelyn, “or he will catch it from me. I mean to have a talk with each of the servants in turn, and tell them quite openly that at any moment I may be mistress, and that they had better look sharp before they incur my displeasure.”
“But, Eve, could you?” exclaimed Sylvia. “Why, that would mean – ”
“Uncle Ned’s death. I know that,” said Evelyn. “I love Uncle Ned. I shall be awfully sorry when he does die. But however sorry I am, he will die when his turn comes; and then I shall be mistress. I was frightfully sorry when mothery died; but however broken-hearted I was, she did die just the same. It is so with every one. It is the height of folly to shirk subjects of that sort; one has to face them. I have no one now to take my part except dear old Jasper, and so I shall have to take my own part, and the servants had better know. – You can tell them too, Jasper; I give you leave.”
“Not I!” said Jasper. “I declare, Miss Evelyn, you are no end of a goose for all that you are the darling of my heart. But now, miss, what dress will you wear to-night? I should say the white satin embroidered with the seed pearls. It has a long train, and you will look like a bride in it, miss. It is cut low in the neck, and has those sleeves which open above the elbow, and a watteau back. It is a very elegant robe indeed; and I have a wreath of white stephanotis for your hair, miss. You will look regal in this dress, and like an heiress, I do assure you, Miss Eve.”
“It is perfectly exquisite!” said Evelyn. “Come, Sylvia; come and look. Oh, those dear little bunches of chiffon, and white stephanotis in the middle of each bunch! And, oh, the lace! It is real lace, is it not, Jasper?”
“Brussels lace, and of the best quality; not too much, and yet enough. It cost a small fortune.”
“Oh, here are the dear little shoes to match, and this petticoat with heaps of lace and embroidery! Well, when I wear this dress Audrey will have to respect me.”
“That is why I bought it, miss. I thought you should have the best.”
“Oh, you are a darling! What would not mothery say if she could look at me to-night!”
“Well, Miss Evelyn, I hope I do my duty. But you and Miss Sylvia have been very late out, so you must hurry, miss, if I am to do you justice.”
“But, oh, I say!” cried Evelyn, looking for the first time at her friend. “What is Sylvia to wear?”
“I don’t know, miss. None of your dresses will fit her; she is so much taller.”
“I will not go down-stairs a fright,” said Sylvia. “Audrey asked me, and she must lend me something. Please, Jasper, do go to Miss Wynford’s room and ask her if she has a white dress she will lend me to wear to-night. Even a washing muslin will do. Anything that is long enough in the skirt and not too short in the waist. I will take it away and have it washed fresh for her. Do, please, please, ask her, Jasper!”
“I am very sorry, miss,” answered Jasper. “I would do anything in reason to oblige, but to go to a young lady whom I don’t know and to make a request of that sort is more than I can do, miss. Besides, she is occupied now. A whole lot of visitors have just arrived – fine young ladies and tall young gentlemen – and they are all chittering-chattering as though their lungs would burst. They are all in the hall, miss, chatting as hard as they can chat. No, I cannot ask her; I cannot really.”
“Then I must stop up-stairs and lose all, all the fun,” said Sylvia.
The gaiety left her face. She sat down on a chair.
“You will get me something to eat, at any rate, Jasper?” she said.
“Yes, of course, miss; you and I can have a cozy meal together.”
“No, thank you,” said Sylvia proudly. “I don’t eat with servants.”
Jasper’s face turned an ugly green color. She looked at Evelyn, but Evelyn only laughed.
“You want to be put in your place, Jas,” was her remark. “You are a little uppish, you know. I am quite pleased with Sylvia. I think she can teach me one or two things.”
“Well,” exclaimed Jasper, “if it is to be cruel and nasty to your own old Jasper, I wish you joy of your future, Miss Evelyn; that I do. – And I am sure, miss,” she added, flashing angry eyes at the unconscious Sylvia, “I do not want to eat with you – not one bit. I am sure your dress ain’t fit for any lady to wear.”
Sylvia got up slowly.
“I am going to look for Audrey,” she said; and before Evelyn could prevent her, she left the room.
“Ain’t she a spiteful, nasty thing!” said the maid the moment Sylvia’s back was turned. “Ain’t she just the very sort that your mother would be mad at your knowing! And I willing to be kind to her and all, and to have a dull evening for her sake, and she ups and cries, ‘I don’t eat with servants.’ Forsooth! I like her ways! I hope, Miss Evelyn, you won’t have nothing more to do with her.”
“Oh dear!” said Evelyn, lying back in her chair and going off into one peal of laughter after another. “You really kill me, Jas, with your silly ways. It was fun to see Sylvia when she spoke like that. And didn’t she take a rise out of you! And was not your pecker up! Oh, it was killing – killing!”
“I am surprised to hear you talk, Miss Evelyn, as you do. You have already forgotten your poor mother and what she said I was to be to you.”
“I have not forgotten her, Jas; but I mean to have great fun with Sylvia, and whether you like it or not you will have to lump it. Oh, I say, she has come back! – Well, Sylvia? Why, you have got a lovely dress hanging over your arm!”
“It is the best I could get,” said Sylvia. “I went to Audrey’s wardrobe and took it out. I did not ask her leave; she was not in the room. There were numbers of dresses, all hanging on pegs, and I took this one. See, it is only India muslin, and it can be washed and done up beautifully. I am determined to have my one happy evening without being docked of any of it, and I could not come down in my own frock. See, Evelyn; do you think it will do?”
“It looks rather raggy,” said Evelyn, gazing at the white India muslin, with its lovely lace and chiffon and numerous little tucks, with small favor; “but I suppose it is better than nothing.”
“I borrowed this white sash too,” said Sylvia, “and those shoes and stockings. I am certain to be found out. I am certain never to be allowed to come to the Castle again; but I mean to have one really great evening of grand fun.”
“And I won’t help you to dress,” said Jasper.
“But you will, Jasper, because I order it,” cried the imperious little Evelyn. “Only,” she added, “you must dress me first; and then, while you are helping Sylvia to look as smart as she can in that old rag, I will strut up and down before the glass and try to imagine myself a bride and the owner of Wynford Castle.”
Jasper was, after all, too much afraid of Evelyn not to yield to her will, and the dressing of the extraordinary girl began. She was very particular about the arranging of her hair, and insisted on having a dash of powder on her face; finally, she found herself in the satin robe with its magnificent adornings. Her hair was once again piled on the top of her head, a wreath of stephanotis surrounding it, and she stood in silent ecstasy gazing at her image in the glass.
It was now Sylvia’s turn to be appareled for the festive occasion, and Jasper at first felt cross and discontented as she took down the girl’s masses of raven-black hair and began to brush them out; but soon the magnificence of the locks, which were tawny in places, and brightened here and there with threads of almost gold, interested her so completely that she could not rest until she had made what she called the best of Sylvia’s head.
With all her faults, Jasper could on occasions have taste enough, and she soon made Sylvia look as she had seldom looked before. Her thick hair was piled high on her small and classical head; the white muslin dress fitted close to her slim young figure; and when she stood close to Evelyn, and they prepared to go down-stairs together, Sylvia, even in her borrowed plumes, even in the dress which was practically a stolen dress, looked fifty times more the heiress than the overdressed and awkward little real heiress.
When the girls reached the large central hall they both stopped. Audrey was standing near the log fire, and a group of bright and beautifully dressed children clustered round her. Two of the girls wore muslin frocks; their hair, bright in color and very thick in quantity, hung down below their waists. There were a couple of boys in the proverbial Eton jackets; and another pair of girls of ordinary appearance, but with intelligent faces and graceful figures. Audrey gave a perceptible start when she saw her cousin and Sylvia coming to meet her. Just for an instant Sylvia looked awkward. Audrey’s eyes slightly dilated; then she came slowly forward.