Winnie Childs, the Shop Girl

								

stage, worn by wonderful, thin giantesses. All her gowns are named,
you know, Rags: 'Dawn,' or 'Sunset,' or 'Love in Spring,' or 'Passion
in Twilight,' and poetic things like that."
"Can't be very poetic bein' sick in 'em, by Jove! for those girls in
the nursery," remarked Rags, "especially if they've got a sense of
humour."
(One of them had. The shimmering sheath of silver and chiffon she wore
to-day, as it happened, rejoiced in the name of "First Love." It was
all white. She was being very careful of its virginal purity; but it
occurred to her that unless the sea's passion died, the frock would
soon have to be renamed "Second Love," or even "Slighted Affection,"
if not "Rejected Addresses.")
Urged by Eileen, who would think her a "pig" if she refused, Ena
reluctantly uncurled herself from a safe and graceful position on a
cushioned sofa. The result was alarming. Her swimming head warned her
that if she did not instantly sit down again something too awful to
think of in the presence of an earl would happen.
"You'd better go without me. I'm not very keen," she faintly
explained, appealing to Peter with her eyes.
He contrived to understand without asking stupid questions, as some
brothers would, and hurried the others off to the room of the mirrors.
No longer was it a room of mystery; yet romance, once awakened, cannot
be put to sleep in a minute, and Peter Rolls's heart beat with
excitement or shyness, he was not sure which, as Lady Eileen O'Neill
knocked at the dryad door.

CHAPTER II
BALM OF GILEAD

It was the worst possible moment for the dryads. But when their
tear-wet eyes beheld a girl and two men, some deep-down primordial
pride of womanhood rushed to their rescue and, flowing through their
veins, performed a miracle beyond the power of any patent remedy. The
five forlorn girls became at need the five stately goddesses Mme.
Nadine paid them to be. (Winifred Child, by the way, was not paid, for
she was not a goddess by profession. But she got her passage free. It
was for that she was goddessing.)
Miss Devereux was the leader, by virtue, not of extra age, no indeed!
but of height, manner, and experience. She apologized, with the most
refined accent, for Mme. Nadine, who was "quite prostrated"; for Mme.
Nadine's manageress, who was even worse; and for themselves. "I'm
afraid we must do the best we can alone," she finished with
unconscious pathos.
"It's a shame to disturb you," said Peter Rolls.
Miss Devereux and her attendant dryads turned their eyes to him. They
had fancied that he was the man who had burst in before and burst out
again; now they were sure. If he had been a woman, they would have
borne him a grudge for coming back and bringing companions worse than
himself; but as he was a man, young, and not bad looking, they forgave
him meekly.
They forgave the other man for the same reason, and forgave the girl