"Why, Bake, you know just as well as I do there aren't any such people coming. I believe it's just one of your jokes," sputtered Aunt. "Nelly, dear, turn slowly round."
She had dropped on her knees beside me, busy with pins and folds, and Joy was lisping the caution, born perhaps of experience, "Don't you thoil it, Cothin Nelly, or Nurthey'll vip you," when Milly came into the library; and with her was Mr. Hynes.
"Lovely! Isn't it, Ned?" cried Milly. "It's for to-morrow."
Mr. Hynes scarcely glanced at the dress, then looked away again, with indifference that somehow hurt me.
"Very pretty," he said languidly. "Classic, isn't it? By the way, Judge, I think you'd be interested--"
And then he began to tell Judge Baker about some horrid auction sale of old books!
I was surprised. I couldn't account for it. To hide my disappointment--for I do want to look my best to-morrow, and then everybody has taken so much pains---I bent over Joy, tying and untying the ribbons that held the rings of soft hair in front of her ears.
"Thop, Cothin Nelly; you hurt!" she screamed.
As soon as I could, I ran to take off the dress. How could Aunt so parade me? Of course the women Mr. Hynes knows must have all their dresses from city dressmakers.
But I believe, after all, he did notice, for I saw him colour before he turned sharply away. To please Milly, he might at least-He called the dress classic; it's just long, soft folds without messy trimmings; and, oh, it's not vanity to peep at myself again and again and to dream of to-morrow. I'm gloriously, gloriously beautiful! If John comes to-morrow, I do hope he'll wear gloves. He has good hands, too; well-shaped-Why, of course; Mr. Hynes must admire me.