"The Grevilles wouldn't! You've got to remember that they are used to finery, and not to having young women sitting round in blue serge in the evening. It seems gaudy to you, but it's just dead, everyday-level to them, and won't raise a ripple. You look a Daisy, and I'm proud of you, and if you had a mite of feeling you'd say `Thank you,' instead of finding fault after all my work!" Elma wheeled round; surprised another glance of tender admiration, and held out impulsive hands. "Cornelia, you are good! I _do_ thank you; I know quite well that you-- you are trying--I _do_ love you, Cornelia!" "Oh, shucks!" cried Cornelia, hastily. "Don't gush; I hate gush! Take my arm, and come along downstairs. Lean on it pretty heavily, mind. Your spirit's too much for your strength, and you are apt to forget that you are an invalid. You've got to keep a check on yourself, my dear, and remember that a nervous shock's a ticklish thing, and needs a lot of tending!" Elma's head drooped; she twisted her fingers together, and glanced beneath the lashes at her friend's face--glanced timidly, questioningly, as it were, in dread. Cornelia deliberately--_winked_! CHAPTER TEN. Geoffrey was lounging about in the hall as the two girls descended the wide staircase. His attitude gave the impression that he had been impatiently awaiting their advent, and, as he took in Elma's changed looks in one comprehensive sweep, his eyes brightened with an expression before which her lids drooped in embarrassment. He came forward eagerly to lead the way into the drawing-room, where Madame sat reading by an open window, and a sofa had been pulled forward and banked with cushions in readiness for the invalid. She smiled a welcome as the little procession entered the room, and looked on with an amused scrutiny while Cornelia shook out the cushions, skilfully altering their position so that the blue brocade should form the background for Elma's fair head. She did not attempt to rise, but her words were kindly enough, if a trifle patronising. "Well, dear, and how are you now after your rest? We must take care of you, and not let you get overtired. Sure you are comfortable? You look too sweet in that gown! I shall never have the heart to wear it after you. Isn't it wicked that a woman is obliged to live on after her complexion has faded? I could bear any affliction better than watching myself growing uglier every day. ... I should have a little pillow tucked into your back. ... Sure you won't feel the draught? That's right! And you really must leave us, Miss Briskett? Couldn't possibly stay to dinner? I suppose it _would_ be unkind! The dog-cart is waiting for you. I told them to have it round by seven. Geoffrey will drive you home, of course. After your adventure this afternoon we should not be happy to leave you to a groom. He'll see you safely to the door, and report to us on your safe arrival."