"I'm so glad to see you," said Lydia. "Won't you come in?"
"I should like to," said Mrs. Dodge. "Jim has been telling us about
the improvements, all along."
"It certainly does look nice," chimed in Mrs. Dix. "I wouldn't have
believed it possible, in such a little time, too. Just cramp that
wheel a little more, Fanny."
The two older women descended from the carryall and began looking
eagerly around.
"Just see how nice the grass looks," said Mrs. Dodge. "And the
flowers! My! I didn't suppose Jim was that smart at fixing things
up.... Aren't you going to get out, girls?"
The two girls still sat on the high front seat of the carryall; both
were gazing at Lydia in her simple morning frock. There were no
flowers on Lydia's Panama hat; nothing but a plain black band; but it
had an air of style and elegance. Fanny was wishing she had bought a
plain hat without roses. Ellen tossed her dark head:
"I don't know," she said. "You aren't going to stay long; are you,
mother?"
"For pity sake, Ellen!" expostulated Mrs. Dodge briskly. "Of course
you'll get out, and you, too, Fanny. The horse'll stand."
"Please do!" entreated Lydia.
Thus urged, the girls reluctantly descended. Neither was in the habit
of concealing her feelings under the convenient cloak of society
observance, and both were jealously suspicious of Lydia Orr. Fanny
had met her only the week before, walking with Wesley Elliot along
the village street. And Mrs. Solomon Black had told Mrs.
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