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Updated: May 7, 2025
He had every excuse, for she was lithe, and beautiful, and a joyous companion; besides being, as the lady's maid justly remarked, a perfect lady. One day, after Dolly had been a fortnight at Upcombe, the Compsons gave a picnic in the wild Combe undercliff.
It flattered her that Winnie should select her for such an honor. The preparations for that visit cost Dolly some weeks of thought and effort. The occasion demanded it. She was afraid she had no frocks good enough for such a grand house as the Compsons.
Winnie Compson said to her friend, as they sat on the edge of Dolly's bed one evening. "He seemed quite taken with you." A pink spot of pleasure glowed on Dolly's round cheek to think that a real young man, in good society, whom she met at so grand a house as the Compsons', should seem to be quite taken with her. "Who is he, Winnie?" she asked, trying to look less self-conscious.
Before Dolly had spent three whole days at the rectory, she talked just as the Compsons did; she picked up by pure instinct the territorial slang of the county families. One would have thought, to hear her discourse, she had dressed for dinner every night of her life, and passed her days in the society of the beneficed clergy. But even that did not exhaust the charm of Upcombe for Dolly.
The Compsons' house was quite as "grand" in the reality as Dolly had imagined it. There was a man-servant in a white tie to wait at table, and the family dressed every evening for dinner. Yet, much to her surprise, Dolly found from the first the grandeur did not in the least incommode her. On the contrary, she enjoyed it. She felt forthwith she was to the manner born.
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