She had kept, too, her charm of manner and keen sense of humor--she wouldn't have been Peter's sister otherwise--as well as her interest in her friend's affairs, especially the love affairs of all the young people about her.
Her knowledge of men and women had broadened.

She read them more easily now than when she was a girl--had suffered, perhaps, by trusting them too much.

This had sharpened the tip end of her tongue to so fine a point that when it became active--and once in a while it did--it could rip a sham reputation up the back as easily as a keen blade loosens the seams of a bodice.
Peter fell in at once with her plan for a "Rosebud Tea," in spite of her raillery and the threatened possibility of our exclusion, promising not only to assist her with the invitations, but to be more than careful at the Bank in avoiding serious mistakes in his balances--so as to be on hand promptly at four.

Moreover, if Jack had a sweetheart--and there was no question of it, or ought not to be--and Corinne had another, what would be better than bringing them all down together, so that Miss Felicia could look them over, and Miss Ruth and the Major could get better acquainted, especially Jack and Miss Felicia; and more especially Jack and himself.
Miss Felicia's proposal having therefore been duly carried out, with a number of others not thought of when the tea was first discussed--including some pots of geraniums in the window, red, of course, to match the color of Peter's room--and the freshening up of certain swiss curtains which so offended Miss Felicia's ever-watchful eyes that she burst out with: "It is positively disgraceful, Peter, to see how careless you are getting--" At which Mrs.McGuffey blushed to the roots of her hair, and washed them herself that very night before she closed her eyes.

The great day having arrived, I say the tea-table was set with Peter's best, including "the dearest of silver teapots" that Miss Felicia had given him for special occasions; the table covered with a damask cloth and all made ready for the arrival of her guests.
This done, the lady returned to her own room, from which she emerged an hour later in a soft gray silk relieved by a film of old lace at her throat, blending into the tones of her gray hair brushed straight up from her forehead and worn high over a cushion, the whole topped by a tiny jewel which caught the light like a drop of dew.
And a veritable grand dame she looked, and was, as she took her seat and awaited the arrival of her guests--in bearing, in the way she moved her head; in the way she opened her fan--in the selection of the fan itself, for that matter.