"And remember, if you fail this time you'll be put out!" shouted Laura,
somewhat cruelly.
The little lady looked distressed, but Faith leaned over and whispered
quickly,
"Did you ever make tatting, Mrs. Windemere?"
"Why, yes, of course I have," surprisedly, wondering what tatting could
have to do with the present game.
"Make believe you're throwing your shuttle and then let the gromet fly.
Be quick and firm!" she added, pretending to fix a loose pin at the
lady's throat. "Remember!"
Mrs. Windemere turned towards the goal with a helpless air, but obeyed,
and heard a sort of gasp, then a shout that rent the air. She opened
her eyes and looked around dazedly. Her gromet was in the bucket, and
amid the wild cheering Mr. Malcolm was chalking up a 10 nearly a foot
long. This gave the score to Faith's side and Mrs. Windemere was
declared the prize winner.
Mr. Allyne could not resist the excitement and hurried up with his
congratulations, while even Mrs. Campbell smiled and grew better
natured as she, too, came forward and with graceful tact, of which she
was a mistress, caught a ribbon from her waist, wound it about one of
the gromets, and setting it lightly upon the victor's head led her to a
chair.
"Behold our queen!" she shouted merrily, and all joined in the huzzas
that followed, while little Mrs. Windemere, who had never received so
much notice in her whole life, actually had to wipe the springing tears
from her eyes.
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