“Jimmie’s coming in say good night, isn’t he?” asked Virginia.

“You bet!” exclaimed her sister, involuntarily relapsing into slang.  “I mean—­certainly he is.”

“That’s right,” said Virginia.

“Shall we see you in the morning before we go?”

“Of course.”

“I thought perhaps you’d have breakfast in bed.”

“And let you and the baby go without saying good-bye?  No, indeed.”

Virginia had now changed her gown for a loose, clinging robe.  With a sigh of relief she exclaimed: 

“Oh, how good it is to be unlaced!”

“That’s right,” replied Fanny; “make yourself comfortable.  I could let an inch or so out of mine without doing any violent harm.  Oh, I just love to be dressed—­decolletee!  I got it right that time, didn’t I, Josephine?”

“Oui, Madame,” replied the maid.

“Fine!  And say, Virgie—­”

“Yes?”

“I looked them all over at the opera to-night and you take it from me—­nobody had anything on us to-night.”

“You certainly looked very well,” said Virginia with a smile.

Fanny beamed with pleasure.

“You weren’t ashamed of your sister, were you?” she said.

“Ashamed!  I should say not.”

“Of course,” went on the elder sister proudly, “with my figure I can wear anything!  But when it comes to evening dress I flatter myself that I’m in the front of the procession and very near the band!”

“It certainly is becoming to you.”

“You were a dream!” went on her sister enthusiastically.  “Did you see the look you got from the young woman in the next box—­the one with the pushed-in face?”

“No.”

“I did.  Prussic acid and vinegar.”

“Oh, Fanny!”

“I saw it.  One drink would have meant death mingled with convulsions.”

“You imagined it.”

“Not much,” retorted her sister.  “I saw it, I tell you.  So did Jimmie—­I mean James.  You know I’m trying to break myself of this habit of calling him Jimmie.  It’s so common.”

“Where is Jimmie?” smiled Virginia, still busy at her dressing table.

“Smoking a cigar and admiring the baby.”

Virginia remained silent for a moment.  Then, thoughtfully, she said: 

“Do you know what I’m going to do for her?”

“No—­what?” demanded Fanny eagerly.

“I’m going to do all I can for her.  She’ll never have to fight and struggle as you and mother did.  I’m going to buy her clothes for her, see after her education, get a governess when the time comes, send her through Vassar or Wellesley if she wants to go, see that she learns how to ride and drive.  In fact, I’m going to do everything for her that money and love can.”

Fanny clasped her hands with delight.  Enthusiastically and gratefully she exclaimed: 

“You’re a thoroughbred, Virgie!  But what would your husband say?”