there," Chrystie thrust out her foot, her skirt drawn close over a
stalwart leg, on which, just above the knee, she laid her finger tips.
Her eyes on Mark were as unconscious as a baby's. "I don't think it's all
her own, it's too long--I'll ask Charlie Crowder."

Aunt Ellen had not gone off again and to prove it said,

"How would he know?"

"Well he'd see it, wouldn't he? He'd see it when she took off her hat,
all wound round her head, yards and yards of it. No, it's false, it was
pinned on under that little cap thing. And after the second act when she
came on to bow she carried a bunch of flowers--oh, that big," her arms
outlined a wide ellipse, "the same colors as her dress, red carnations
and some sort of yellowish flower I couldn't see plainly."

Mark, seeing some comment was expected of him, hazarded a safe,

"You don't say!"

"And just as she was going off"--Lorry took it up now--"she looked at
someone in a box and smiled and--"

But Chrystie couldn't bear it. She leaned toward her sister imploringly.

"Now, Lorry, let me tell that--you _know_ I noticed it first." Then to
Mark, "She was close to the side where they go off and I was looking at
her through the glasses, and I saw her just as plain give a sort of quick
look into the box and then smile and point to the flowers. It was as if
she said to the person in there, 'You see, I've got them.'"