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She hurried away and Marie followed her to the bedroom, while Osborn
stood in the doorway, looking in at the two eager women about their
joyous errand. He put his hands in his pockets and smiled. It was
pleasant to be involved in the bustle about the precious thing they
were unwrapping from swathes of tissue paper. “Be careful, dear,” the
elder woman kept saying, “there’s a pin here.” Or “Don’t hurry, or
you’ll have the pleats out of place.” And Marie’s hands trembled over
their task. When all the paper was removed, Mrs. Amber said
importantly, “Now just lift it up; give it to me like that; I’ll carry
it in,” but Marie cried: “No, I will,” and she threw the gown over her
shoulder till her head emerged as from the froth of sea waves, and ran
into the sitting-room with it.

Mrs. Amber’s eyes were moist with pride. “It’s a beautiful dress,” she
said to Osborn, who had turned eagerly after his girl; “I want her to
look sweet. Here, wouldn’t you like to take something? Here’s the
shoes