The hall had doors to right and left, but before
making further investigations she paused to examine minutely the tall
mahogany clock, and the quaint silver candlesticks that stood on an
old table at the foot of the steps.
While bending to inspect the latter, she heard a door open, and
looking up saw a pretty, slender girl in a short white petticoat and a
sleeveless black dress lining, which displayed a pair of remarkably
shapely arms.
"Oh, I didn't know you had come!" exclaimed the young person,
cordially extending a smiling welcome. "What a darling little dog! Is
he a poodle?"
"She is a French poodle," said Mrs. Sequin with a manner intended to
impress this exceedingly casual person. "Where shall I find my cousin,
Doctor Queerington?"
"The front room up-stairs, on that side. I'd go up with you, only Miss
Ferney Foster, our neighbor, is fitting this lining and she has to get
back to her pickles. I wish we were born feathered like birds, don't
you?"
Mrs. Sequin, who had a masculine susceptibility to a pretty face,
could not repress a smile.
"I know this lining looks queer," went on the girl with an answering
twinkle.
Pages:
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119
120
121