"Anything with a tune to it, and not too loud."

Smiling, Rose began one of the simple melodies that Aunt Francesca
loved:

[Illustration: musical notation]

Suddenly, she turned away from the piano. Her elbow, falling upon the
keys, made a harsh dissonance. "Isabel, my dear!" she cried. "Aren't you
almost too gorgeous?"

The girl stood in the open door, framed like a portrait, against the
dull red background of the hall. Her gown was white net, shot and
spangled with silver, over lustrous white silk. A comb, of filagree
silver, strikingly lovely in her dark hair, was her only ornament except
a large turquoise, set in dull silver, at her throat.

"I'm not overdressed, am I?" she asked, with an eager look at Madame.

"Not if it suits you. Come here, dear."

Isabel obeyed, turning around slowly for inspection. Almost instantly it
was evident that Madame approved. So did Rose, after she saw how the
gown made Isabel's eyes sparkle and brought out the delicate fairness of
her skin.

"You do suit yourself; there's no question about that, but you're
gorgeous, nevertheless." Thus Rose made atonement for her first
impulsive speech.