Chapter XXVI
Enter Christine
The girls at Patty’s Place were dressing for the reception which the Juniors
were giving for the Seniors in February. Anne surveyed herself in the mirror of
the blue room with girlish satisfaction. She had a particularly pretty gown on.
Originally it had been only a simple little slip of cream silk with a chiffon
overdress. But Phil had insisted on taking it home with her in the Christmas
holidays and embroidering tiny rosebuds all over the chiffon. Phil’s fingers were
deft, and the result was a dress which was the envy of every Redmond girl. Even
Allie Boone, whose frocks came from Paris, was wont to look with longing eyes
on that rosebud concoction as Anne trailed up the main staircase at Redmond in
it.
Anne was trying the effect of a white orchid in her hair. Roy Gardner had sent
her white orchids for the reception, and she knew no other Redmond girl would
have them that night—when Phil came in with admiring gaze.
“Anne, this is certainly your night for looking handsome. Nine nights out of
ten I can easily outshine you. The tenth you blossom out suddenly into
something that eclipses me altogether. How do you manage it?”
“It’s the dress, dear. Fine feathers.”
“‘Tisn’t. The last evening you flamed out into beauty you wore your old blue
flannel shirtwaist that Mrs. Lynde made you. If Roy hadn’t already lost head and
heart about you he certainly would tonight. But I don’t like orchids on you,
Anne. No; it isn’t jealousy. Orchids don’t seem to BELONG to you. They’re too
exotic—too tropical—too insolent. Don’t put them in your hair, anyway.”
“Well, I won’t. I admit I’m not fond of orchids myself. I don’t think they’re
related to me. Roy doesn’t often send them—he knows I like flowers I can live
with. Orchids are only things you can visit with.”
“Jonas sent me some dear pink rosebuds for the evening—but—he isn’t
coming himself. He said he had to lead a prayer-meeting in the slums! I don’t
believe he wanted to come. Anne, I’m horribly afraid Jonas doesn’t really care
anything about me. And I’m trying to decide whether I’ll pine away and die, or