Part 65 (1/2)
”Dear me, child, what use would things be to those I love, if I went and _wore_ them?”
The next article she laid her hand on was a roll of white poplin, and drew an exclamation from Mrs. Dodd herself: ”If I had not forgotten this, and it is the very thing. Your dear papa bought me this in London, and I remonstrated with him well for buying me such a delicate thing, only once wear. I kissed it and put it away, and forgot it. They _say_ if you keep a thing seven years. It _is_ just seven years since he gave it to me. Really, the dear boy is a witch: this is your wedding dress, my precious precious.” She unrolled a few yards on the bed to show it; and asked the gloating Sarah with a great appearance of consideration whether they were not detaining her from her occupations?
”Oh no, mum. This gla.s.s have got so dull; I'm just polis.h.i.+ng of it a bit. I shan't be a minute now, mum.”
From silver tissue paper, Mrs. Dodd evolved a dress (unmade) of white c.r.a.pe embroidered in true lover's-knots of violet silk, and ears of wheat in gold. Then there was a scream at the gla.s.s, and Sarah seen in it with ten claws in the air very wide apart: she had slily turned the mirror and was devouring the reflexion of the finery, and this last Indian fabric overpowered her. Her exclamation was instantly followed by much polis.h.i.+ng; but Mrs. Dodd replied to it after the manner of her s.e.x: ”Well it _is_ lovely,” said she to Julia: ”but where is the one with beetle wings? Oh here.”
”Real beetles' wings, mamma?” inquired Julia.
”Yes, love.”
”So they are, and how wicked! and what a lovely green! I will never wear them: they are prismatic: now, if ever I am to be a Christian, I had better begin: everything _has_ a beginning. Oh vanity of women, you stick at nothing. A thousand innocent lives stolen to make one dress!”
And she put one hand before her eyes, and with the other ordered the dress back into the wardrobe with genuine agitation.
”My dear, what expressions! And you need not wear it; indeed neither of them is fit for that purpose. But you _must_ have a pretty thing or two about you. I have h.o.a.rded these a good many years; now it is your turn to have them by you. And let me see; you want a travelling cloak: but the dear boy will not let us; so choose a warm shawl.”
A rich but modest one was soon found, and Julia tried it on, arching her supple neck, and looking down over her shoulder to see the effect behind, in which att.i.tude oh for an immortal brush to paint her, or anything half as bright, supple, graceful, and every inch a woman.
At this moment Mrs. Dodd threw a lovely blue Indian shawl on the bed, galvanising Sarah so that up went her hands again, and the door opened softly and a handsome head in a paper cap peeped on the scene, inquiring with mock timidity ”May 'The British Workman' come in?”
He was invited warmly; Julia whipped his cap off, and tore it in two, reddening, and Mrs. Dodd, intending to compliment his foresight, showed him the bed laden with the treasures they had disinterred from vanity's mahogany tomb.
”Well, mother,” said he, ”you were right, and I was wrong: they are inappropriate enough, the whole lot.”
The ladies looked at one another, and Sarah permitted herself a species of snort.
”Do we want Sarah?” he asked quietly. She retired bridling.
”Inappropriate?” exclaimed Mrs. Dodd. ”There is nothing here unfit for a bride's trousseau.”
”Good Heavens! Would you trick her out like a Princess?”
”We must. We are too poor to dress her like a lady.”
”Cinderella; at your service,” observed Julia complacently, and pirouetted before him in her new shawl.
Ideas rejected peremptorily at the time often rankle, and bear fruit by-and-bye. Mrs. Dodd took up the blue shawl, and said she would make Julia a peignoir of it; and the border, being narrowish, would do for the bottom. ”That was a good notion, of yours, darling,” said she, bestowing a sweet smile on Edward. He grunted. Then she took out a bundle of lace: ”Oh, for pity's sake, no more,” cried the ”British Workman.”
”Now, dearest, you have interfered once in feminine affairs, and we submitted. But, if you say another word, I will trim her poplin with Honiton two feet deep.”
”Quarter! quarter!” cried Edward. ”I'm dumb; grant me but this; have nothing made up for her out of the house: you know there is no dressmaker in Barkington can cut like you: and then that will put some limit to our inconsistency.” Mrs. Dodd agreed; but she must have a woman in to sew.
Edward grunted at this, and said: ”I wish I could turn you these gowns with my lathe; what a deal of time and bother it would save. However, if you want any stuffing, come to me; I'll lend you lots of shavings; make the silk rustle. Oh, here is my governor's contribution.” And he produced L. 7, 10s.
”Now, look there,” said Julia sorrowfully, ”it is money. And I thought you were going to bring me the very bonnet yourself. Then I should have valued it.”
”Oh yes,” replied the young gentleman ironically; ”can I choose a bonnet to satisfy such swells as you and mamma? I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll go with you and look as wise as Solomon, all the time you are choosing it.”
”A capital plan,” said Julia.