She had a fresh, round,
pink-and-white face, and jolly brown eyes. She did not
look in the least like the traditional old maid, and
there was something in her expression which won Anne
instantly. With her old instinctive quickness to
discern kindred spirits she knew she was going to like
Miss Cornelia, in spite of uncertain oddities of
opinion, and certain oddities of attire.
Nobody but Miss Cornelia would have come to make a call
arrayed in a striped blue-and-white apron and a wrapper
of chocolate print, with a design of huge, pink roses
scattered over it. And nobody but Miss Cornelia could
have looked dignified and suitably garbed in it. Had
Miss Cornelia been entering a palace to call on a
prince's bride, she would have been just as dignified
and just as wholly mistress of the situation. She
would have trailed her rose-spattered flounce over the
marble floors just as unconcernedly, and she would have
proceeded just as calmly to disabuse the mind of the
princess of any idea that the possession of a mere man,
be he prince or peasant, was anything to brag of.
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