Quicksand
“And you were quite right too . Umm. Let‘s see. That black there, the one with the cerise and purple trimmings. Wear that.”
Helga was shocked. “But for tea, Aunt! Isn‘t it too gay? Too—too—outré‽”
“Oh dear, no. Not at all, not for you. Just right.” Then after a little pause she added: “And we‘re having people in to dinner tonight, quite a lot. Perhaps we‘d better decide on our frocks now.” For she was, in spite of all her gentle kindness, a woman who left nothing to chance. In her own mind she had determined the role that Helga was to play in advancing the social fortunes of the Dahls of Copenhagen, and she meant to begin at once.
At last, after much trying on and scrutinizing, it was decided that Marie should cut a favorite emerald-green velvet dress a little lower in the back and add some gold and mauve flowers, “to liven it up a bit,” as Fru Dahl put it.
“Now that,” she said, pointing to the
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