Contrary Mary

Whatever Delilah Jeliffe might lack, it was not originality. The

apartment which she chose for her winter in Washington was like any

other apartment when she went into it, but the changes which she

made--the things which she added and the things which she took away,

stamped it at once with her own individuality.

The peacock screen before the fireplace, the cushions of sapphire and

emerald and old gold on the couch, the mantel swept of all ornament

except a seven-branched candlestick; these created the first

impression. Then one's eyes went to an antique table on which a

crystal ball, upborne by three bronze monkeys, seemed to gather to

itself mysteriously all the glow of firelight and candlelight and rich

color. At the other end of the table was a low bowl, filled always

with small saffron-hued roses.

In this room, one morning, late in Lent, Leila Dick sat, looking as out

of place as an English daisy in a tropical jungle.

Leila did not like the drawn curtains and the dimness. Outside the sun

was shining, gloriously, and the sky was a deep and lovely blue.

She was glad when Lilah sent for her.

"You are to come right to her room," the maid announced.

"Heavens, child," said the Delilah-beauty, who was combing her hair, "I

didn't promise to be up with the birds."

"The birds were up long ago," Leila perched herself on an old English

love-seat. "We're to have lunch before we go to Fort Myer, and it is

almost one now."

Lilah yawned, "Is it?" and went on combing her hair with the air of one

who has hours before her. She wore a silken négligée of flamingo red

which matched her surroundings, for this room was as flaming as the

other was subdued. Yet the effect was not that of crude color; it was,

rather, that of color intensified deliberately to produce a contrast.

Delilah's bedroom was high noon under a blazing sun, the sitting-room

was midnight under the stars.

With her black hair at last twisted into wonderful coils, Delilah

surveyed her face reflectively in the mirror, and having decided that

she needed no further aid from the small jars on her dressing table,

she turned to her friend.

"What shall I wear, Leila?"

"If I told you," was the calm response, "you wouldn't wear it."

Delilah laughed. "No, I wouldn't. I simply have to think such things

out for myself. But I meant what kind of clothes--dress up or motor

things?"