Hair, hat, and dress were satisfactory--nothing there for
Miss Irene to make fun of. Rilla remembered how clever and amusing she
used to think Irene's biting little comments about other girls. Well, it
had come home to her now.
Presently, Irene skimmed down, elegantly gowned, with her pale,
straw-coloured hair done in the latest and most extreme fashion, and an
over-luscious atmosphere of perfume enveloping her.
"Why how do you do, Miss Blythe?" she said sweetly. "This is a very
unexpected pleasure."
Rilla had risen to take Irene's chilly finger-tips and now, as she sat
down again, she saw something that temporarily stunned her. Irene saw it
too, as she sat down, and a little amused, impertinent smile appeared on
her lips and hovered there during the rest of the interview.
On one of Rilla's feet was a smart little steel-buckled shoe and a filmy
blue silk stocking. The other was clad in a stout and rather shabby boot
and black lisle!
Poor Rilla! She had changed, or begun to change her boots and stockings
after she had put on her dress. This was the result of doing one thing
with your hands and another with your brain. Oh, what a ridiculous
position to be in--and before Irene Howard of all people--Irene, who
was staring at Rilla's feet as if she had never seen feet before! And
once she had thought Irene's manner perfection! Everything that Rilla
had prepared to say vanished from her memory.
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