"If--if you think I look too dowdy, I--I'll stay at home, Mother," she said, in a quiet tone that betrayed a touch of hurt pride. "You know it was out of the question for me to get another dress, and if you feel sensitive about my going to people like the Porterbridges in what I've got, why, it's absurd to attempt it at all."
Mrs. Prescott was abashed; then in her quick, sweet, impulsive way--so like that of a thoughtless, lovable little girl--she put her arms around Nancy's straight young shoulders.
"Don't be cross with me, darling. I only said that because it hurts me to think that you have to deny yourself anything in the world. You are so sweet, and so strong, and--and I love you so, my dear, that I cannot bear to think of your having to deny yourself the pretty things that are given to the daughters of so many other women."
Instantly Nancy unbent, and, turning her head so that she could kiss her mother's soft hair, she whispered, with a tender little laugh:
"Before you begin pitying us, dearest, you can--can just remember that other women's daughters haven't been given--a mother like you." And then, because, just like a boy, she felt embarrassed at her own emotion, and the tears that had gathered in her eyes, she said briskly:
"If anyone should ask me my candid opinion, I'd say that I'm rather pleased with myself--only some inner voice tells me that I'm not completely hooked. Here, Mother----" By means of an excruciating contortion she managed to indicate a small gap in the back of her dress just between the shoulder blades.
"You do look awfully nice, Nancy," commented Alma; she paused reflectively a moment, and then added, "You know, I suppose that at first glance most people would say I was--was the prettier, you know--because I'm sort of doll-baby-looking, and pink and white, like a French bonbon; but an artist would think that you were really beautiful--I hit people in the eye, like a magazine cover, but you grow on them slowly like a--a Rembrandt or something."
"Whew! We've certainly been throwing each other bouquets broadcast to-night," laughed Nancy, who was tremendously pleased, nevertheless. "You'd better put your cloak on, Alma, and stop turning my head around backwards with your unblushing flattery. Isn't that our coach now?"