For a finishing touch to her despised "best" dress, Beryl brought forth
her green beads. Robin exclaimed over them, taking them out of Beryl's
hand to hold them to the light.
"Oh, they are lovely, Beryl, see the deep glow! They're like the sea.
You ought to be proud of them."
"They're just some beads an old priest gave mother when she was a girl,"
Beryl explained, making her voice indifferent. She loved Robin's
enthusiasm but half-suspected it might be "put on" in order to make up
to her for the things she did not have. "They do look nice on this
dress, though, don't they?" She laid them against her neck and stared
with satisfaction at the reflection in the long mirror.
The Lynch cottage, in honor of the occasion, sparkled with orderliness.
Mrs. Moira looked very gay in a pretty foulard she had made over from
two of Miss Lewis' old dresses; her fluttering hands alone betrayed her
nervousness and her fears that though the most tempting smells came from
the stove her dinner might not be "just right" for little Miss Forsyth
and for Dale's new friend, too.
However, when Robin came into the room with Beryl she looked so
appealingly small that Mrs.
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