Part 6 (2/2)
The old lady was dreadfully offended, and they have never heard of her since that day.”
”And a good thing, too, if she was like some old ladies we could mention!” said Lois sharply, whereat her sister first laughed, and then sighed.
”Oh, well, it's no use saying anything about that! What were we talking about before--Mildred's dress? Well, there is one comfort--she always looks sweet. I dare say she will look one of the nicest there, though Mrs Newland's friends are so smart. Don't say anything to her about our new dresses. It might make her feel uncomfortable.”
There were no signs of discomfiture in Mildred's manner, however, when the new dresses arrived from town a week later on. She had been romping with the children in the garden, and came dancing in through the open window of the library to find Mrs Faucit, Lady Sarah, and the two girls grouped round the table on which lay two large cardboard boxes. The lids were thrown open, the tissue paper wrappings strewn over the floor, and Mildred, looking at the contents, gave a cry of pleasure and comprehension.
”New dresses for the picnic! Oh, how lovely! Do let me look,”--and Lady Sarah's eye-gla.s.ses went up in horrified fas.h.i.+on as she swung herself on to the corner of the table in her anxiety to have a good view.
The new dresses were charming, everything that the heart of girlhood could desire for the occasion; soft, creamy white, with lemon-coloured ribbons arranged in the most Frenchified style, and with big leghorn hats to match. Even Lady Sarah smiled approval, but the exclamations of the other onlookers were feeble, as compared with Mildred's ecstatic rhapsodies.
”Oh, the darlings! Oh, the beauties! Aren't they sweet? Look at the ducky little bows at the elbows, and the little crinkly ruchings at the neck! And the sashes!--oh, goodness, what yards of ribbon!--and yellow silk frills round the bottom--oh-h! And the hats--Bertha, you will look an angel! If I had a dress like that I should sit up all night--I'm sure I should! I could never bring myself to take it off. Oh-h!”
Mrs Faucit looked at the fair, flushed face with mingled approval and pity. ”Poor, dear child!” she said to herself as she left the room in answer to a summons from a servant; ”very few girls of her age would be so entirely free from envy. I wish I had ventured to order a dress for her at the same time; but I was afraid she might not like it. I wonder what she is going to wear?”
The same question had occurred to another person, and not being possessed of the same delicacy of mind as the dean's wife, Lady Sarah saw no reason why her curiosity should not be gratified.
”And when is your dress to arrive?” she inquired. ”What have you ordered for yourself, my dear?”
”I--I ordered!” Mildred fairly gasped. The idea of ”ordering” anything was so supremely ridiculous. ”I haven't ordered anything!”
”Indeed! You brought your dress with you, I presume. Still I think, Miss Mildred, that you might have honoured your hostess by making the same preparation for yourself which she thinks it necessary to make for her own daughters.”
”Why, dear me,” cried Mildred, still too much swallowed up with amazement at the extraordinary suggestion to have room for indignation.
”Why, dear me, I'd be only too delighted to order a dozen if I could; but where on earth should I get the money to pay for them? I never had a dress like that in my life. I don't suppose I ever shall have one!”
”Then what are you going to wear, if one may ask?”
Poor Mildred smoothed down the folds of the blue crepe dress. The romp in the garden had not improved its condition; it was looking sadly crumpled and out of condition, but it had been washed a dozen times, and had a delightful knack of issuing from the ordeal a softer and more becoming shade than before. With certain little accessories, already planned, she did not despair of a satisfactory result.
”Well, I thought Mrs Faucit would be so kind as to allow the laundress to get up this dress. It is the only suitable thing I have, and I was going to--”
”Suitable! That thing! Do you mean to say that you seriously intend to wear the dress you have on to a picnic given by Mrs Newland?”
Lois bit her lip and turned aside. Bertha began hastily to cover up the dainty white folds which showed the crumpled blue in such unfavourable contrast. Mildred drooped her eyelids, and answered with that smouldering calm which precedes a storm.
”I am. That is certainly my intention.”
”And you mean to say you have no better dress than that in your possession?”
”This is my best dress. Yes! I have no better.”
”And your mother actually allowed you to come away with such a wardrobe!
Preposterous, I call it! People who cannot provide for themselves respectably have no business to accept invitations, in my opinion!”
Now it happened that this morning Lady Sarah had risen with a bad headache, one of the consequences of which had been to make her even more fault-finding towards Mildred than usual. The old discussion about her hair had been resumed after breakfast; she had been reproved for leaving the door open; for shutting the door, for speaking too loudly; for mumbling so indistinctly that it was impossible to hear; for one imaginary offence after another, until finally she had run away in despair and taken refuge with the children in the garden. It was not only the present annoyance, therefore, it was the acc.u.mulated irritation of the morning, with which the girl had to fight at this moment, and the conflict was too hard for her strength.
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