Loveday’s thoughts flew of a sudden to the ribands she had disturbed in Cherry’s lap, and for the first time in her life, till now so proudly above such matters in its aloofness, she yearned over fineries.  If such as those could admit her into the company of such as this!  She thought enviously of that pale pink, even of the yellows and reds she had seen in Bugletown, since such deep tones seemed to the taste of this wonderful creature.

But Miss Le Pettit, still staring at her, changed her note.

“I was wrong,” she exclaimed, “that face needs no gaudy hues, those white cheeks need nothing but that red mouth to set them off, and that black hair.  She should be white, all white, should she not, Mrs. Lear?  A tragic bride from the south, languishing in our cold land.  ’Twould make a fine subject for a painting, though I fear beyond my brush.  I never can get my faces to look as sad as I could wish them to.”

There was something engaging and almost childlike about the heiress as she spoke those words, but recollecting herself she resumed: 

“Never mind the portrait, but I vow I will have you for my attendant at the Flora, that I will.  Now, Mrs. Lear, you shall not protest, I always have my way when I set my heart on a thing, you know.  I am going to dance in the Flora this year, ’tis a charming rural custom, and the gentry should help to preserve it.  Besides, my name is Flora, so I am doubly bound.  And this child shall be my maid; she will be a rare contrast to me, I being chestnut and she so foreign looking.  It would be indiscreet if I were to dance with a gentleman—­you know what the gossips are—­but if I am partnered by an attendant maid ’twill be very different.”

“Ma’am ...” from the scandalised Mrs. Lear, “if you are set on having a village girl ... there are many from good homes, respectable girls.  Not that I’ve anything to say against this poor child, God knows, but her mother, ma’am....  I assure you ’tis impossible.”

Miss Le Pettit, who guessed very well the sort of tale Mrs. Lear’s delicacy spared her, laughed the matter off.

“It shall be as I say, Mrs. Lear, I can afford to be above these things.  You shall dance with me, Loveday.  You must have a white frock, of course, but I suppose you have a Sunday frock?  Quite a simple thing, the simpler the better, and a white sash of satin riband.  Don’t forget.  I shall expect to see you waiting for me at the Flora.”

And Miss Le Pettit rose, having carried her freak of sensibility on long enough, and sweeping past Loveday with a dazzling smile, was accompanied to the front door by Mrs. Lear, and after standing poised for a moment against the sunny verdure beyond, took wing with a flutter of white taffetas and was gone.