I flew upstairs and pulled my prettiest dress out of my trunk . It is a delicate , shimmering grey stuff with pearly tints about it . Every time I get anything new , Aunt Martha and I have a battle royal over it . I verily believe that Aunt would like me to dress in the fashions in vogue in her youth . There is always a certain flavour of old-fashionedness about my gowns and hats . Connie used to say that it was delicious and gave me a piquant uniqueness -- a certain unlikeness to other people that possessed a positive charm . That is only Connie 's view of it , however . But I had had my own way about this dress and it is really very becoming . I wore a little silvery-grey chip hat , trimmed with pale pink flowers , and I pinned at my belt the sweetest cluster of old-fashioned blush rosebuds from the garden . Then I borrowed a hymn book from Mrs. Blake and ran down to undergo Aunt Martha 's scrutiny . `` Dear me , child , '' she said discontentedly , `` you have gotten yourself up very frivolously , it seems to me . '' `` Why , Aunty , '' I protested , `` I 'm all in grey -- every bit . '' Aunt Martha sniffed . You do n't know how much Aunt can express in a sniff . But I tripped to church like a bird . The first person I saw there was Mr. Shelmardine . He was sitting right across from me and a smile glimmered in his eyes . I did not look at him again . Through the service I was subdued enough to have satisfied even Aunt Martha . When church came out , he waited for me at the entrance to his pew .
I pretended not to see him until he XXXXX `` Good morning , '' in a voice vibrating and deep , which sounded as though it might become infinitely tender if its owner chose .
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