This last was said in a tone of meditative appreciation.
The afternoon of the day on which the ball was to take place, a
servant rode over from Hamley with two lovely nosegays, "with the
Mr. Hamleys' compliments to Miss Gibson and Miss Kirkpatrick."
Cynthia was the first to receive them. She came dancing into the
drawing-room, flourishing the flowers about in either hand, and
danced up to Molly, who was trying to settle to her reading, by way
of passing the time away till the evening came.
"Look, Molly, look! Here are bouquets for us! Long life to the
givers!"
"Who are they from?" asked Molly, taking hold of one, and examining
it with tender delight at its beauty.
"Who from? Why, the two paragons of Hamleys, to be sure. Is it not a
pretty attention?"
"How kind of them!" said Molly.
"I'm sure it is Osborne who thought of it. He has been so much
abroad, where it is such a common compliment to send bouquets to
young ladies."
"I don't see why you should think it is Osborne's thought!" said
Molly, reddening a little. "Mr. Roger Hamley used to gather nosegays
constantly for his mother, and sometimes for me."
"Well, never mind whose thought it was, or who gathered them; we've
got the flowers, and that's enough. Molly, I'm sure these red flowers
will just match your coral necklace and bracelets," said Cynthia,
pulling out some camellias, then a rare kind of flower.
"Oh, please, don't!" exclaimed Molly. "Don't you see how carefully
the colours are arranged--they have taken such pains; please, don't."
"Nonsense!" said Cynthia, continuing to pull them out; "see, here are
quite enough. I'll make you a little coronet of them--sewn on black
velvet, which will never be seen--just as they do in France!"
"Oh, I am so sorry! It is quite spoilt," said Molly.
"Never mind! I'll take this spoilt bouquet; I can make it up again
just as prettily as ever; and you shall have this, which has never
been touched." Cynthia went on arranging the crimson buds and flowers
to her taste. Molly said nothing, but kept watching Cynthia's nimble
fingers tying up the wreath.
"There!" said Cynthia, at last, "when that is sewn on black velvet,
to keep the flowers from dying, you'll see how pretty it will look.
And there are enough red flowers in this untouched nosegay to carry
out the idea!"
"Thank you" (very slowly). "But sha'n't you mind having only the
wrecks of the other?"
"Not I; red flowers would not go with my pink dress."
"But--I daresay they arranged each nosegay so carefully!"
"Perhaps they did. But I never would allow sentiment to interfere
with my choice of colours; and pink does tie one down. Now you,
in white muslin, just tipped with crimson, like a daisy, may wear
anything."