rosebuds embroidered all over it. "By hand, too, none of your machine-made stuff"; and Lucilla had a mignonette-coloured shot silk with a short waist and wonderful gathered trimming.
"When we get enough P.G.'s together we'll have a dance," said Jane.
"Rather," said Lucilla, and their imagination peopled the big, silent rooms of Cedar Court with a little crowd of strangers, all young, all good-looking and good-tempered, all ready to please and be pleased. It was a radiant prospect and kept them well amused.
Then the answers to the advertisement began to arrive, and the days become darkened with correspondence. There are no letters so dull as the letters in which you demand or supply what are called "references."
Out of the cloud of ink three human figures presently emerged, clothed with testimonials almost as glowing as Mrs. Dadd's—an officer's widow and her unmarried sisters. The terms were satisfactory, the date of the arrival was fixed, the rooms were got ready.
"Towels and soap and fresh flowers and pincushions with real pins in them," said Jane. "The P.G. who can't be happy here doesn't deserve to be happy anywhere."
"Perhaps they aren't," said Lucilla.
"I only hope the dinner will be all right. The tinned mock turtle and tinned peas and tinned asparagus and tinned peaches. That only leaves the mutton for Mrs. Dadd to cook, and potatoes. Oh, if only we had Mrs. Doveton here!"
"Perhaps Mrs, Smale won't mind what she eats. Officers' widows following the regiment all over the world must get used to having odd sorts of meals. After puppy-dog pie and birds-nest soup I daresay even Mrs. Dadd's cooking would seem all right."
"Perhaps," said Jane, but without conviction. "Was that the gate? Oh, what have I done?"
What she had done was to knock a vase of pinks off a table and flood the hearthrug. Lucilla flew to the bell, and
