Part 3 (1/2)
But a suitable house of any size in Boston was found to be quite out of the question. ”It will have to be an apartment, my dear,” the experienced Miss Tripp declared; ”and I believe I know the very one in a _really good_ neighbourhood. I'll write at once. You mustn't _think_ of South Boston, even if it is more convenient for Mr. Brewster. It is so important to begin right; and you know, my dear, you couldn't expect any one to come to see you in South Boston.”
Mrs. Carroll, who chanced to be present, was observed to compress her lips firmly. ”Lizzie,” she said, when the fas.h.i.+onable Miss Tripp had finally taken her departure, after much voluble advice on the subject of the going-away gown, coupled with a spirited discussion of the rival merits of a church wedding and ”just a pretty, simple home affair,” ”if I were you I shouldn't let that Evelina Kipp decide everything for me.
You'd better make up your mind what you want to do, and what you can afford to do, and then do it without asking her leave. It seems to me her notions are extravagant and foolish.”
”Why, grandma!” pouted Elizabeth. ”I think it is perfectly dear of Miss Tripp to take such an interest in my wedding. I shouldn't have known what to do about lots of things, and I'm sure you and mother haven't an idea.” The girl's pretty lips curled and she moved her slim shoulders gently.
”Your mother and I both managed to get married without Miss Fripp's advice,” retorted grandma tranquilly. ”I may not have an 'idea,' as you call it, but I can't see why you should have ruffled silk petticoats to all your dresses. One good moreen skirt did me, with a quilted alpaca for every-day wear and two white ones for best. And as for a dozen sets of underclothes, that won't wear once they see the washtub, they look foolish to me. More than all that, your father can't afford it, and you ought to consider him.”
Elizabeth looked up with a worried pucker between her girlish brows. ”I don't see how I am going to help it, grandma,” she sighed; ”I really must have suitable clothes.”
”I agree with you there, Lizzie,” said Mrs. Carroll, eyeing her granddaughter keenly over the top of her spectacles; ”but you aren't going to have them, if you let that Sipp girl tell you what to buy.”
”It isn't _Sipp_, grandma, it's Tripp. T-r-i-p-p,” said Elizabeth, in a long-suffering tone; ”and she knows better than any one in Innisfield possibly can what I am going to need in Boston.”
”You'll find the people in Boston won't take any particular interest in your petticoats, Lizzie,” her grandmother told her pointedly. But the girl had spied her lover coming up the walk toward the house and had flown to meet him.
”What's the matter, sweetheart?” asked the young man, examining his treasure with the keen eyes of love. ”You look tired and--er--worried.
Anything wrong, little girl?”
”N-no,” denied Elizabeth evasively. ”Only grandma has such queer, old-fas.h.i.+oned ideas about--clothes. And she thinks I ought to have just what she had when she was married to grandfather fifty years ago. Of course I want to have everything nice and--suitable for Boston, you know.”
”What you are wearing now is pretty enough for anywhere,” declared Sam Brewster, with masculine obtuseness. ”Don't you bother one minute about clothes, darling; you'd look lovely in anything.”
Then he kissed her faintly smiling lips with the fatuous idea that the final word as to wedding finery had been said.
CHAPTER IV
”If you can give me just a minute, Richard, before you go out.” It was Mrs. North's timidly apologetic voice which broke in upon her husband's hasty preparations for a day's professional engagements.
Dr. North faced about with a laughing twinkle in his eyes. ”I know your minutes, Lizzie,” he said, absent-mindedly sniffling at the cork of a half-emptied bottle. ”This gentian's no good; I've a mind to s.h.i.+p it back to Avery's and tell them what I think of the firm for selling adulterated drugs. It's an outrage on suffering humanity. I'll write to them anyway.” And he began to rummage his desk in quest of stationery.
”I wanted to speak to you about Bessie's things,” persisted Mrs. North.
”You know you gave me some money for her wedding clothes last month; but it isn't--it won't be nearly enough.”
”What on earth have you been buying for the child?” asked her husband.
”I should think with what she has already the money I gave you would go quite a ways.”
”That's just it,” sighed Mrs. North. ”Bessie thinks none of the things she has are--suitable.” She hesitated a little over the hard-worked word. ”Of course living in Boston, and----”
”Pooh! Boston's no different from any other town,” put in the doctor.
”You tell Bess I said so. She doesn't need to worry about _Boston_!” He plumped down in his office chair and began an indignant protest addressed to the firm of Avery & Co., Wholesale Druggists and Dealers in Surgical Supplies.
”I haven't bought any of her best dresses yet,” sighed Mrs. North; ”and she wants an all-over lace for her wedding dress. Miss Tripp says they're very much worn now.”
She paused suggestively while the doctor's pen raced busily over his page.
”You didn't hear what I said, did you, Richard?” she ventured after a while.