was gathered in front into a series of ruffles, and was held below by a gold buckle. The large, puffed-up sleeve made her hand appear as small as a child’s, Her neck stood out against the green garment like white marble. Her eyes glistened with a soft, liquid brilliancy.
“This is the way, my child, the hair used to be combed.” The enthusiastic old lady showed her how. “Here over the temples, and down to the cheeks, and then back again, and behind, gathered into a braid,—you see, that is the way they wore it then,—O Lord, while I am talking to you, the coffee is getting cold! Come to breakfast!”
She led her into the next room. Lucy cast a passing glance around her. In the middle stood a round table, and the cloth, with its floral design, reached the floor. The coffee was steaming in dainty cups.
She saw a wealth of flowers in the windows: cacti, myrtles, azaleas and begonias. On a tall chest of drawers gleamed a gilt
