Page:Harper's New Monthly Magazine - v109.djvu/345



Roscoe," confided Mrs. Peppergrin. "They are engaged, you know. And I do hope Millie will be worthy of him; I do hope so."

This seemed to be the last thing about which Millie worried. Chiefly she was concerned about her frills. There were several new sets of them to be displayed each day, and it appeared she was never quite certain that she had them all on just right. Perhaps you have seen a Brazilian cockatoo preening his gay plumage? Well, Millie was something like that, particularly if she could sit within range of a pier-glass.

About her hovered Roscoe, waiting patiently until the frills were all arranged, when she would reward him with a smile. A wonderful smile it was, too; no mere relaxing of the lips, but a manœuvre in which the chin, the eyes, the eyelids, the eyebrows, all had a part to play and played it. Nor was it a simple, offhand, spontaneous smile, such as some persons scatter broadcast. Millie was no spendthrift with her smiles. They were, in fact, rather rare, but when she did smile she gave her whole attention to the business. The result was a work of art, a triumph.

Perhaps it was that Roscoe, being solely favored, could not resist the subtle flattery. At any rate, he seemed fairly snared. You could see that by his manner of looking at her. It was a gaze which told of admiration too deep for words. How abrupt and startling was the change when he turned to stare at the rest of us! You may be sure we felt very small indeed.