“Am I all right?  Is my skirt even?”

“You are absolutely perfect, Aunt Francesca.”

“Then play to me, my dear.  If my outward semblance is in keeping, please put my mind into a holiday mood.”

Rose ran her fingers lightly over the keys.  “What shall I play?”

“Anything with a tune to it, and not too loud.”

Smiling, Rose began one of the simple melodies that Aunt Francesca loved: 

[Illustration:  musical notation]

Suddenly, she turned away from the piano.  Her elbow, falling upon the keys, made a harsh dissonance.  “Isabel, my dear!” she cried.  “Aren’t you almost too gorgeous?”

The girl stood in the open door, framed like a portrait, against the dull red background of the hall.  Her gown was white net, shot and spangled with silver, over lustrous white silk.  A comb, of filagree silver, strikingly lovely in her dark hair, was her only ornament except a large turquoise, set in dull silver, at her throat.

“I’m not overdressed, am I?” she asked, with an eager look at Madame.

“Not if it suits you.  Come here, dear.”

Isabel obeyed, turning around slowly for inspection.  Almost instantly it was evident that Madame approved.  So did Rose, after she saw how the gown made Isabel’s eyes sparkle and brought out the delicate fairness of her skin.

“You do suit yourself; there’s no question about that, but you’re gorgeous, nevertheless.”  Thus Rose made atonement for her first impulsive speech.

Mr. Boffin came in, with a blue ribbon around his neck, and helped himself to Aunt Francesca’s chair.  Isabel rocked him and he got down, without undue haste.  He marched over to a straight-backed chair with a cushion in it; glared at Isabel for a moment with his inscrutable topaz eyes, then began to purr.

The clock chimed seven silvery notes.  Madame Bernard waved her white lace fan impatiently.  “It’s the psychological moment,” Rose observed.  “Why don’t they come?”

“It’s Allison’s fault, if they’re late,” Madame assured her.  “I could always set my watch by the Colonel.  He—­there, what did I tell you?” she concluded triumphantly, as footsteps sounded outside.

When the guests were ushered in, Madame advanced to meet them.  The firelight had brought a rosy glow to her lovely face, and her deep eyes smiled.  Allison put his violin case in a corner before he spoke to her.

“Did you really?” asked Madame.  “How kind you are!”

“I brought it,” laughed the young man, “just because you didn’t ask me to.”

“Do you always,” queried Rose, after he had been duly presented to her, “do the things you’re not asked to do?”

“Invariably,” he replied.

“Allison,” said Madame, “I want you to meet my niece once removed—­Miss Ross.”  The Colonel had already bowed to Isabel and was renewing his old acquaintance with Rose.

“Not Isabel,” said Allison, in astonishment.