For the
addition of a model, dressmaking golliwog to the family would be the
final obstacle. Lord Raygan was now undecided. He was perhaps waiting
to see how the rest of the Rollses shaped up. If he could stand them
as relations, all would be well. All _must_ be well!
That night Win wore for her walk a long blue coat in place of the
mackintosh. It was shabby, but becoming; and her dark hair was tucked
into a close-fitting cap of the same blue as the cloak. She knew what
was due to happen at half-past eight, and though grateful to Mr. Balm
of Gilead, dreaded the result of his kindness.
Miss Rolls would be the first American girl she had ever met; but she
knew how an English girl would feel about being introduced to a vague
waif picked up by a brother in a dressmaker's showroom on shipboard.
It would have been ungracious to refuse the offered introduction so
well meant, but the fifth dryad was not looking forward to it with
pleasurable sensations.
When she saw the brother and sister coming toward her, however, the
smile on Miss Rolls's face was encouraging. It was dimly like Peter's
smile, and there was a certain family resemblance about the faces:
both dark, with eager eyes that seemed light in contrast with
dead-black hair, but the eagerness of Miss Rolls's look was different
from the eagerness of her brother's.
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