Winnie Childs, the Shop Girl

								

because she was with the men. If only they could behave themselves as
young ladies should through this ordeal! That was the effort on which
they must concentrate their minds and other organs.
"Not at all," returned Miss Devereux, every inch a princess. "We are
here to be disturbed." (Alas, how true!)
She smiled at Lady Eileen, but not patronizingly, because a mysterious
instinct told her that the plain, pleasant young girl in Irish tweed
was a "swell." The men, too, were swells, or important in some way or
other. One exerted one's self to be charming to such people and to
keep the male members of the party from looking at the other girls.
"Would you like to see something else, different from what we are
showing? Evening cloaks? Day dresses? We have a number of smart little
afternoon frocks---"
"I think that white dress is the meltingest thing I ever saw," said
Lady Eileen, who had walked into the room without waiting for Miss
Devereux's answer to Peter Rolls's objection.
She was a kind-hearted girl, but, after all, living models were living
models until they were dead, and she wasn't going to lose the chance
of getting a dreamy frock out of Rags! All the goddesses were on their
mettle and their feet now, though swaying like tall lilies in a high
wind and occasionally bracing themselves against mirrors, while Lady
Eileen was in the biggest chair, with Raygan and Peter Rolls standing
behind her. The men also were offered chairs by Miss Vedrine with a
lovely play of eyelashes, but refused them: the chairs, not the
eyelashes, which no man could have spurned, despite their scattered
effect.
"The white dress, moddam?" (It thrills a flapper to be called
"moddam.") "It is one of the latest designs and considered perfect
for a débutante. No doubt you know it is Mme. Nadine's custom to name
her inspirations. Come here, if you please, Miss Child! This is 'First
Love.'"
"Looks like it," remarked Lord Raygan, as Miss Child obeyed. He might
have meant the wearer or the dress. Peter Rolls flashed a gimlet
glance his way to see which. He felt uncomfortably responsible for the
manners of the visitors and the feelings of the visited. But the face
of Rags was grave, and no offence could be taken. Peter Rolls withdrew
the glance, though not before Winifred Child had it intercepted and
interpreted.
"I believe he's a nice fellow," was the thought that slid through her
mind as, like a chicken on a spit, she turned and turned to let Lady
Eileen behold "First Love" from every point of view.
"Rippin', but a foot too tall for you," said Rags, more because it
amused him to prolong the scene than through a real desire to
criticise. "You don't go in for bein' a sylph."
Another backhanded compliment for the wearer, if she cared to accept
it; but she was beautifully unconscious and, for once, not laughing.
Her eyes looked miles away. Peter Rolls wondered to what land she had
gone.
The girl appeared to be gazing over his head; but, as a matter of