“You are like me, I never could wear rings. I hated my wedding ring for months.”
“Did you, mother?”
“I longed to take it off and put it away. But after a while I got used to it.”
“I’m glad this isn’t a wedding ring.”
“Leslie says it is as good,” said I.
“Ah well, yes! But still it is different—” She put the jewels round under her finger, and looked at the plain gold band—then she twisted it back quickly, saying:
“I’m glad it’s not—not yet. I begin to feel a woman, little mother—I feel grown up to-day.”
My mother got up suddenly, and went and kissed Lettie fervently.
“Let me kiss my girl good-bye,” she said, and her voice was muffled with tears. Lettie clung to my mother, and sobbed a few quiet sobs, hidden in her bosom. Then she lifted her face, which was wet with tears, and kissed my mother, murmuring:
“No, mother—no—o—!”
About three o’clock the carriage came with Leslie and Marie. Both Lettie and I were upstairs, and I heard Marie come tripping up to my sister.
“Oh, Lettie, he is in such a state of excitement, you never knew. He took me with him to buy it—let me see it on. I think it’s awfully lovely. Here, let me help you to do your hair—all in those little rolls—it will look charming. You’ve really got beautiful hair—there’s so much life in it—it’s a pity to twist it into a coil as you do. I wish my hair were a bit longer—though really, it’s all the better for this fashion—don’t you like it?—it’s ‘so chic’—I think
