Part 32 (1/2)

She would keep apologizing to Phillis for making her stand so long, and she wanted to hold the pins and to pick up the scissors that Phillis had dropped; and when the young dressmaker consulted her about the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, she was far too humble to intrude her opinions.

”Anything you think best, Miss Challoner, for you have such beautiful taste as never was seen; and I am sure the way you have fitted that body-lining is just wonderful, and would be a lesson to Miss Slasher for life. No, don't put the pins in your mouth, there's a dear.”

For, in her intense zeal, Phillis had thought herself bound to follow the manner of Mrs. Sloper, the village factotum, and she always did so, though Nan afterwards a.s.sured her that it was not necessary, and that in this particular they might be allowed to deviate from example.

But she was quite proud of herself when she had finished, for the material seemed to mould under her fingers in the most marvellous way, and she knew the fit would be perfect. She wanted to rush off at once and set to work with Nan; but Miss Milner would not let her off so easily. There was orange wine and seed-cake of her own making in the back parlor, and she had just one question--a very little question--to ask. And here Miss Milner coughed a little behind her hand to gain time and recover her courage.

”The little papers were about the shop, and Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs saw one, and--and----” Here Phillis came promptly to her relief.

”And Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs wants to order a dress, does she?” And Phillis bravely kept down the sudden sinking of heart at the news.

Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was the butcher's wife,--the sister of that very Mrs.

Squails of whom Dulce once made mention,--well known to be the dressiest woman in Hadleigh, who was much given to imitate her betters. The newest fas.h.i.+ons, the best materials, were always to be found on Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's portly figure.

”What could I do?” observed Miss Milner, apologetically: ”the papers were about the shop, and what does the woman do but take one up? 'I wonder what sort of dressmakers these are?' she said, careless-like; 'there is my new blue silk that Andrew brought himself from London and paid five-and-sixpence a yard for in St. Paul's Churchyard; and I daren't let Miss Slasher have it, for she made such a mess of that French merino. She had to let it out at every seam before I could get into it, and it is so tight for me now that I shall be obliged to cut it up for Mary Anne. I wonder if I dare try these new people?”

”And what did you say, Miss Milner?”

”What could I do then, my dear young lady, but speak up and say the best I could for you? for though Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs is not high,--not one of the gentry, I mean,--and has a rough tongue sometimes, still she knows what good stuff and good cutting-out means, and a word from her might do you a power of good among the townfolks, for her gowns are always after the best patterns.”

”All right!” returned Phillis, cheerfully: ”one must creep before one runs, and, until the gentry employ us, we ought to think ourselves fortunate to work for the townpeople. I am not a bit above making a dress for Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, though I would rather make one for you, Miss Milner, because you have been so kind to us.”

”There, now! didn't I say there never were such young ladies!”

exclaimed Miss Milner, quite affected at this. ”Well, if you are sure you don't mind, Miss Challoner dear, will you please go to Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's this morning? for though I told her my dress was to be finished first, still Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's isn't a stone's-throw from here; and you may as well settle a thing when you are about it.”

”And I will take the silk, Miss Milner, if you will kindly let me have a nice piece of brown paper.”

”Indeed and you will do no such thing, Miss Challoner; and there is Joseph going down with the papers to Mr. Drummond's, and will leave it at the Friary as he pa.s.ses.”

”Oh, thank you,” observed Phillis, gratefully. ”Then I will pencil a word to my sister, to let her know why I am detained.” And she scrawled a line to Nan:

”Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, not Squails: here beginneth the first chapter. Expect me when you see me, and do nothing until I come.”

There was no side-door at Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's, and Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was at the desk, jotting down legs of mutton, and entries of gravy-beef and suet, with a rapidity that would have tried the brain of any other woman than a butcher's wife.

When Phillis approached, she looked up at her suavely, expecting custom.

”Just half a moment, ma'am,” she said, civilly. ”Yes, Joe, wing-rib and half of suet to Mrs. Penfold, and a loin of lamb and sweet-bread for No. 12, Albert Terrace. Now, ma'am, what can I do for you?”

”I have only come about your dress, Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs,” returned Phillis, in a very small voice; and then she tried not to laugh, as Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs regarded her with a broad stare of astonishment, which took her in comprehensively, hat, dress, and neat dogskin gloves.

”You might have taken up my pen and knocked me down with it,” was Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's graphic description of her feelings afterwards, as she carved a remarkably fine loin of veal, with a knuckle of ham and some kidney-beans to go with it. ”There was the colonel standing by the desk, Andrew; and he turned right round and looked at us both. 'I've come about your dress, Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs,' she said, as pertlike as possible. Law, I thought I should have dropped, I was that taken aback.”

Phillis's feelings were none of the pleasantest when Colonel Middleton turned round and looked at her. There was an expression almost of sorrow in the old man's eyes, as he so regarded her, which made her feel hot and uncomfortable. It was a relief when Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs roused from her stupefaction and bustled out of the desk.

”This way, miss,” she said, with a jerk of her comely head. But her tone changed a little, and became at once sharp and familiar. ”I hope you understand your business, for I never could abide waste; and the way Miss Slasher cut into that gray merino,--and it only just meets, so to say,--and the breadths are as scanty as possible; and it would go to my heart to have a beautiful piece of silk spoiled, flve-and-sixpence a yard, and not a flaw in it.”

”If I thought I should spoil your dress I would not undertake it,”