“Oh! how lovely!” cried Honor, clasping her hands. “How _perfectly_ lovely! Are they--do they--”
“They are for your schoolmates, naturally. You said there were nine of them? ‘Nine homesick puppies, in nine vehicles, straying sadly down the road to Peking.’[2] Quotation; contains a buried city. H’m! Well! Yes. The large one is for the two good ladies, who do not wear gimcracks. Well? Are you pleased?”
“But I am enchanted! They are exquisite. And all the girls have been begging me for my picture. But when were they taken, my aunt?”
“Folly snapped her kodak at you, the day of the race, and had the print enlarged. I found the lockets at Interlaken. Now you know as much as I do. Glad you like them!”
“And--oh! and my hair looks dark!” cried Honor. “It really does!”
“Yes, that is the only trouble with the likeness. Red hair should be powdered before photographing, or it looks perfectly black.”
“Oh, if it only were!” cried poor Honor. “I have always longed so for dark hair, madame. In America--would it be wicked if I blacked it, my aunt? It is wicked in Switzerland, our Sister says.”
“It would be idiotic,” said Mrs. Damian, “which is more to the point. Don’t be an idiot, child, whatever else you are. Look! Here is your dressing-case. Like it?”
But here Honor became speechless. Darkest green morocco, lined with satin, fitted with brushes, combs, and innumerable bottles, all in warm-white ivory, all marked--H.B. What could fourteen-year-old Honor say at sight of this marvel? She could only gasp, and clasp her hands together. It was some minutes before she managed to stammer out,
“I am combled! I am altogether combled, madame! What generosity, what goodness!”
“You like it?” repeated Mrs. Damian, watching her with evident pleasure.
“I have dreamed of such a thing!” said Honor. “I never thought to see one. Can it possibly be actually mine, madame?”
“It not only can, but is. Nobody else would want it, you see, with your initials on it.”
“I thank you! Oh, I thank you a hundred thousand times, for the beautiful, beautiful things, but, ah, how much more for your kindness! It enlarges me the heart! I--I--” Honor faltered.
“_Don’t cry!_ If you cry, I’ll break all the bottles. Here! take these chains and put the lockets on them!” Mrs. Damian held out a box containing a number of slender gold chains. “When the girls come, you may put them round their necks and make a pretty speech to each one. I have no time for pretty speeches. H’m! Folly, how about the emeralds? Pretty, with the white frock and the hair, eh?”