The dried lavender flowers rustled faintly as Ruth reverently lifted the
garments, giving out the long-stored sweetness of Summers gone by. The
white had changed to an ivory tint, growing deeper every day. There
were eleven night gowns, all made exactly alike, with high neck and long
sleeves, trimmed with tucks and lace. Only one was in any way elaborate.
The sleeves were short, evidently just above the elbow, and the neck was
cut off the shoulders like a ball gown. A deep frill of Venetian point,
with narrower lace at the sleeves, of the same pattern, was the only
trimming, except a tiny bow of lavender ribbon at the fastening, pinned
on with a little gold heart.
When Ruth went in, with one of the night gowns over her arm, a faint
colour came into Miss Ainslie's cheeks.
"Did--did--you find those?" she asked.
"Yes," answered Ruth, "I thought you'd like to wear them."
Miss Ainslie's colour faded and it was some time before she spoke again.
"Did--did you find the other--the one with Venetian point?" "Yes, Miss
Ainslie, do you want that one It's beautiful."
"No," she said, "not now, but I thought that I'd like to wear
that--afterward, you know."
A shadow crossed Ruth's face and her lips tightened.
"Don't, dear," said Miss Ainslie, gently.
"Do you think he would think it was indelicate if--if my neck were bare
then?"
"Who, Miss Ainslie?"
"Carl. Would he think it was wrong if I wore that afterward, and my neck
and shoulders showed? Do you think he would?"
"No!" cried Ruth, "I know he wouldn't! Oh, Miss Ainslie, you break my
heart!"
"Ruth," said Miss Ainslie, gently; "Ruth, dear, don't cry! I won't talk
about it any more, deary, I promise you, but I wanted to know so much!"
Ruth kissed her and went away, unable to bear more just then. She
brought her chair into the hall, to be near her if she were needed. Miss
Ainslie sighed, and then began to croon a lullaby.