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Page 12
"Anything with a tune to it, and not too loud."
Smiling, Rose began one of the simple melodies that Aunt Francesca
loved:
[Illustration: musical notation]
Suddenly, she turned away from the piano. Her elbow, falling upon the
keys, made a harsh dissonance. "Isabel, my dear!" she cried. "Aren't you
almost too gorgeous?"
The girl stood in the open door, framed like a portrait, against the
dull red background of the hall. Her gown was white net, shot and
spangled with silver, over lustrous white silk. A comb, of filagree
silver, strikingly lovely in her dark hair, was her only ornament except
a large turquoise, set in dull silver, at her throat.
"I'm not overdressed, am I?" she asked, with an eager look at Madame.
"Not if it suits you. Come here, dear."
Isabel obeyed, turning around slowly for inspection. Almost instantly it
was evident that Madame approved. So did Rose, after she saw how the
gown made Isabel's eyes sparkle and brought out the delicate fairness of
her skin.
"You do suit yourself; there's no question about that, but you're
gorgeous, nevertheless." Thus Rose made atonement for her first
impulsive speech.
Mr. Boffin came in, with a blue ribbon around his neck, and helped
himself to Aunt Francesca's chair. Isabel rocked him and he got down,
without undue haste. He marched over to a straight-backed chair with a
cushion in it; glared at Isabel for a moment with his inscrutable topaz
eyes, then began to purr.
The clock chimed seven silvery notes. Madame Bernard waved her white
lace fan impatiently. "It's the psychological moment," Rose observed.
"Why don't they come?"
"It's Allison's fault, if they're late," Madame assured her. "I could
always set my watch by the Colonel. He--there, what did I tell you?" she
concluded triumphantly, as footsteps sounded outside.
When the guests were ushered in, Madame advanced to meet them. The
firelight had brought a rosy glow to her lovely face, and her deep eyes
smiled. Allison put his violin case in a corner before he spoke to her.
"Did you really?" asked Madame. "How kind you are!"
"I brought it," laughed the young man, "just because you didn't ask me
to."
"Do you always," queried Rose, after he had been duly presented to her,
"do the things you're not asked to do?"
"Invariably," he replied.
"Allison," said Madame, "I want you to meet my niece once removed--Miss
Ross." The Colonel had already bowed to Isabel and was renewing his old
acquaintance with Rose.
"Not Isabel," said Allison, in astonishment.
"Yes," answered the girl, her eyes sparkling with excitement, "it's
Isabel."
"Why, little playmate, how did you ever dare to grow up?"
"I had nothing else to do." "But I didn't want you to grow up," he
objected.
"You've grown up some yourself," she retorted.
"I suppose I have," he sighed. "What a pity that the clock won't stand
still!"
Yet, to Madame, he did not seem to have changed much. He was taller, and
more mature in every way, of course. She noted with satisfaction that he
had gained control of his hands and feet, but he had the same boyish
face, the same square, well-moulded chin, and the same nice brown eyes.
Only his slender, nervous hands betrayed the violinist.
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