She instigated her to order and send to Lord Skye a mass of the handsomest roses New York could afford.

She set her at work on her dress several days before there was any occasion for it, and this famous costume had to be taken out, examined, criticised, and discussed with unending interest.

She talked about the dress, and the Princess, and the ball, till her tongue clove to the roof of her mouth, and her brain refused to act.

From morning till night, for one entire week, she ate, drank, breathed, and dreamt of the ball.

Everything that love could suggest or labour carry out, she did, to amuse and occupy her sister.
She knew that all this was only temporary and palliative, and that more radical measures must be taken to secure Sybil's happiness.