Part 8 (1/2)
”Perhaps I shouldn't look at them then--”
Daphne interrupted her.
”You just buy what you want. Don't you worry about what Father thinks. I don't.”
”But I--I--don't want to be extravagant.”
”You _can't_ be extravagant. You _can't_ spend too much. Now, don't you think about it--and don't you ask how much they cost. You don't need to know. Just you buy the prettiest things they've got.”
Finally a choice was made of two pretty soft gray dresses, fragile enough to suit even Daphne's luxurious tastes; arrangements were made in regard to their hurried alterations; and, after buying a wrap to replace the now discarded mantle, they departed, Drusilla as happy as a child, with a flush on her old cheeks and a strange happy light in her blue eyes.
”Now we must have things to go with them.”
They went into a lingerie shop, where Drusilla was dazed by the piles of dainty underclothing that were spread before her. She caressed the soft laces and the delicate, cobweb affairs.
”Oh, Miss Thornton, I can't decide. I didn't know there was such beautiful things in the world! Had I ought to have 'em? Ain't they too young for me?”
”There is no age for underclothing. Don't you want them? Isn't that the loveliest nightgown? Don't you want it?”
”Yes, I'd like to have it, but--” Drusilla thought of her two Canton flannel nightdresses lying in her little trunk.
”Well, you shall have them. And this fluffy gray dressing-gown--it is a dear. We will take that too; and this pretty bed-jacket. Look at the embroidery on it. You must have that, so if you have breakfast in bed--and _look_ at this dear lace cap. When you sit up in bed, with the tray in front of you, and this little jacket on, and the cap, with a little of your hair showing beneath it, why, you'll look nice enough to _eat_. Now we'll go and buy stockings, pretty gray silk ones, and shoes, and slippers; and we mustn't forget about the milliner. I know the _loveliest_ place; Madame will know just what to give you.”
Drusilla enjoyed the milliner's the most of all; for there she tried on hat after hat--not ugly bonnets but cleverly arranged creations for an old lady that seemed to remove the lines from her face and made her feel that perhaps, after all, she could take a part and share in the beautiful things of this new beautiful world, instead of a mere looker on.
At last they were taken to one of the great modistes, a creator of gowns known on two continents, and Daphne had Miss Doane wait in a reception-room while she interviewed the great lady herself. This arbitrator of fas.h.i.+on came smilingly to Miss Doane and with her keen, professional eye saw her ”possibilities.” She said to Miss Thornton:
”Will you leave it to me? I will make her the gowns and she will be pleased.”
Measurements were taken and orders given; and when they were again in the motor, Drusilla asked shyly:
”What was that last place, Miss Thornton?”
”That is Marcelle, the great dressmaker's place. That was Marcelle herself who came to us.”
”Was that a dressmaking shop? I didn't see no dresses or fas.h.i.+on books.”
”No, she doesn't use fas.h.i.+on books. She makes her own fas.h.i.+ons.”
”But--but--we jest got two new dresses.”
Miss Thornton laughed.
”Oh, those are because we were in a hurry. Your dresses must be _made_. I told her she must hurry, too; and her things are beautiful, Miss Doane. You'll love yourself in them.”
Drusilla laughed softly.
”I'm afraid I love myself already. It seems awful vain for an old woman like me to be buying all them pretty clothes--but--” and she sighed like a happy child--”it's nice to be vain for once in your life. It's just _nice_.”