JUDITH PACEWALK'S TEABERRY GOWN
"Judith Pacewalk," said Miss Panney, "was Matthias Butterwood's cousin.
Before Matthias got rich and built this house, he lived with his Aunt
Pacewalk on her farm. That was over at Pascalville, about thirty miles
from here. He superintended the farm, and Judith and he were very good
friends, although he never showed any signs of caring anything for her
except in the way of a cousin; but she cared for him. There was no doubt
about that. I lived in Pascalville, then, and used to be a great deal at
their house, and it was as plain as daylight to me that Judith was in
love with her cousin, although she was such a quiet girl that few people
suspected it, and I know he did not.
"The Pacewalks were poor, and always had been; and it could not be
expected that a man like Matthias Butterwood could stay long on that
little farm. He had a sharp business head, and was a money-maker, and as
soon as he was able he bought a farm of his own, and this is the farm;
but there was no house on it then, except the little one that Mike now
lives in. But Matthias had grand ideas about an estate, and in the course
of five years he built this house and the great barn, and made a fine
estate of it.
"When this was going on, he still lived with his Aunt Pacewalk. He did
not want to go to his own house until everything was finished and ready.
Of course, everybody supposed he would take a wife there, but he never
said anything about that, and gave a sniff when the subject was
mentioned. During the summer in which Cobhurst was finished--he named the
place himself--he told his aunt that in the fall he was going there to
live, and that he wanted her and Judith to come there and make him a
visit of a month. He said he intended to have his relations visit him by
turns, and that was the sort of family he would have. Now it struck me
that if Judith went there and played her cards properly, she could stay
there as mistress. Although she was a girl very much given to keeping her
own counsel, I knew very well that she had something of the same idea.
"As I said before, the Pacewalks were poor, and although they lived well
enough, money was scarce with them, and it was seldom that they were able
to spend any of it for clothes. But about this time Judith came to me--I
was visiting them at the time--and talked a little about herself, which
was uncommon. She said that if she went to Matthias' fine new house, and
sat at the head of his table,--and of course that would be her place
there, as it was at her mother's table,--she thought that she ought to
dress better than she did. 'I do not mean,' she said, 'that I want any
fine clothes for company; but I ought to have something neat and proper
for everyday wear, and I want you to help me to think of some way to buy
it.' So we talked the matter over, and came to the conclusion that the
best way to do was to try to gather teaberries enough to pay for the
material for a chintz gown.
"In those days--I don't know how it is now--Pascalville was the greatest
place for teaberries. They used them as a flavor for candy, ice-cream,
puddings, cakes, and I don't know what else. They made summer drinks of
it, and it was used as a perfume for home-made hair-washes and
tooth-powder. So Judith and I and a girl named Dorcas Stone, who was a
friend of ours, went to work gathering teaberries in the woods. We worked
early and late, and got enough to trade off at the store for the ten
yards of chintz with which that gown is made.
"As for the making of it, Judith and I did all that ourselves. Dorcas
Stone might be willing enough to go with us to pick berries, but when
she found what was to be bought with them, she drew out of the business.
She was not a girl who was particularly sharp about seeing things
herself, or keeping people from seeing through her; but she wanted to
marry Matthias Butterwood, and when she found Judith was to have a new
gown she would have nothing to do with it, which was a pity, for she was
a very fine sewer, especially as to gathers.
"We cut the gown from some patterns we got from a magazine; I fitted it,
and we both sewed. When it was done, and Judith tried it on, it was very
pretty and becoming, and she looked better in it than in the gown she
wore when she went to a party. When we had seen that everything was all
right, Judith took off the dress, folded it up, and put it away in a
drawer. 'Now,' said she, 'I shall not wear that until I go to Cobhurst.'
"Well, as everybody knows, houses are never finished at the time they are
expected to be, and that was the way with this house, and as Matthias
would not go into it until everything was quite ready, the moving was put
off and put off until it began to be cold weather, and then he said he
would not go into it until spring, for it would be uncomfortable to live
in the new house in the winter.
"I was very sorry for this, for I thought that the sooner Judith got here
the better her chance would be for staying here the rest of her life.
Judith did not say much, but I am sure she was sorry too, and Matthias
seemed a little out of spirits, as if he were getting a little tired of
living with the Pacewalks, and wanted to be in his own house. I think he
began to feel more like seeing people, and I know he visited the Stones a
good deal.
"One day when I was at the Pacewalks' and we were sitting alone, he
looked at me and my clothes, and then he said, 'I wish Judith cared more
for clothes than she does. I do not mean getting herself up for high days
and holidays, but her everyday clothes. I like a woman to wear neat and
becoming things all the time.' 'I am sure,' I said, 'Judith's clothes are
always very neat!'
"'If you mean clean,' he said, 'I will agree to that, but when the color
is all washed out of a thing, or it is faded in streaks like that blue
gown she wears, the wearing of it day after day is bound to make a person
think that a young woman does not care how she looks to her own family,
and I do not like young women not to care how they look to their
families, especially when calico is only twelve cents a yard, and needles
and thread cost almost nothing.' 'Matthias,' said I, 'I expect you have
been to see Dorcas Stone, and are comparing her clothes with Judith's.
Now, Dorcas' father is a well-to-do man, and Judith hasn't any father,
and she does the best she can with the clothes she has.' 'It is not money
I am talking about,' he said, 'it is disposition. If a young woman wants
to look well in her own family, she will find some way to do it. At any
rate, she could let it be seen that she is not satisfied to look like a
dowdy.' And then he went away.
"This was the first time that Matthias had ever spoken to me about
Judith, and I knew just as well as if he had told me that it was Dorcas
Stone's clothes that had got him into that way of thinking.
"More than that, I knew he would never have taken the trouble to say that
much about Judith if he had not been taking more interest in her than he
ever had before. He was a practical, businesslike man, and I believed
then, and I believe now, that he was looking for some one to be mistress
of Cobhurst, and if Judith had suited his ideas of what such a woman
ought to be, he would have preferred her to any one else. I think that
was about as far as he was likely to go in such matters at that time,
though of course if he had gotten a loving wife, he might have become a
loving husband, for Matthias was a good fellow at bottom, though rather
hard on top.
"When he had gone, I went straight upstairs to Judith, and said to her,
if she knew what was good for her, she would get out that teaberry gown
and put it on for supper, and wear it regularly at meals and at all times
when it would be suitable as a house gown. 'I shall do nothing of the
sort,' she said; 'I got it to wear when I go to Cobhurst, and I shall
keep it until then. If I put it on now, it will be a poor-looking thing
by spring.' I told her that was all nonsense, and she could wear that and
get another in the spring, but she shook her head and was not to be
moved. Now, I would have been glad enough to give her the stuff to make a
new gown, but I had hinted at that sort of thing before, and did not
intend to do it again, for she was a good deal prouder than she was poor.
Nor could I think of telling her what Matthias had said, for not only
was she very sensitive, and would have been hurt that he should have
talked to me in that way about her, but she would not have consented to
dress herself on purpose to please a man's fancy.
"I could not do anything more then, but I have always been a matchmaker,
and I did not give up this match. I did everything I could to make Judith
look well in the eyes of Matthias, and I said everything I could to make
his eyes look favorably on her, but it was all of no use. Judith went to
a Christmas party, and she wore a purple silk gown that had belonged to
her mother. It was rather large for her, and a good deal heavier than
anything she had been accustomed to wear, and she got very warm in the
crowded room, and coming home in a sleigh, she caught cold, and died in
less than a month.
"So you see, my dears, Judith Pacewalk never wore her teaberry gown, in
which, I believe, she would have been mistress of Cobhurst. When her
mother died, not long afterward, everything they owned went to Matthias
and his brother Reuben. The Pacewalk farm was sold, and all the personal
property of both brothers, including that disastrous box of bones, was
brought here, where it is yet, I suppose; and so, my good young people, I
imagine you will not wonder that I was surprised to see that pink gown
again, having helped, as I did, with every seam, pleat, and gather of it.
If you will look at it closely, you will see that there is good work on
it, for Judith and I knew how to use our needles a good deal better than
most ladies do nowadays."
Miriam now spoke with much promptness.
"I am ever so glad to hear that story, Miss Panney," she said, "and as
that teaberry gown should have been worn by the mistress of Cobhurst, I
intend to wear it myself, every day, as long as it lasts, and if it does
not fit me, I can alter it."
Whether this remark, which was delivered with considerable spirit, was
occasioned by the young girl's natural pride, or whether a little
jealousy had been aroused by the evident satisfaction with which the
old lady gazed at Dora, arrayed in this significant garment, Miss
Panney could not know, but she took instant alarm. Nothing could be
more fatal to her plans than to see the sister opposed to them. She
had been delighted at the intimacy that had evidently sprung up
between her and Dora, but she knew very well that if this sedate
school-girl should resent any interference with her prerogatives, the
intimacy would be in danger.
Miss Panney had no doubt that Dora and Ralph were on the right road, and
would do very well if left to themselves, but she scarcely believed that
the young man was yet sufficiently in love to brave the opposition of his
sister, which would be all the more wild and unreasonable because she was
yet a girl, and in a position of which she was very proud.
For Dora and Ralph to marry, Dora and Miriam should be the best of
friends, so that both brother and sister should desire the alliance,
and in furtherance of this happy result, Miss Panney determined to
take Dora away with her. She had been at Cobhurst long enough to
produce a desirable impression upon Ralph, and if she stayed longer,
there was no knowing what might happen between her and Miriam. Dora, as
well as the other, was high-spirited and young, and it was as likely as
not that as she showed an inclination to continue to wear the teaberry
gown, there would be a storm in which matrimonial schemes would be
washed out of sight.
"Dora," said Miss Panney, "I am now going to drive to Thorbury, and it
will be a great deal better for you to go with me than to wait for your
brother, for it may be very late in the day before he can come for you.
And more than that, it is ten to one that by this time he has forgotten
all about you, especially if his office is full of clients. So please
get yourself ready as soon as possible. And, Miriam, if you will come
over to see me some morning, and bring that teaberry gown with you, I
will alter it to fit you, and arrange it so that you can do the sewing
yourself. It is very appropriate that the little lady of the house
should wear that gown."
Into the minds of Dora and Miss Panney there came, simultaneously, this
idea: that no matter how much or how often Miriam might wear that gown,
she would not be the first one whom it had figuratively invested with the
prerogatives of the mistress of Cobhurst.
Miss Bannister, who well knew her brother's habits, agreed to the old
lady's suggestion, and it was well she did so, for when she got home,
Herbert declared that he had been puzzling his mind to devise a plan for
sending for his sister and the broken buggy on the same afternoon. As
for going himself, it was impossible.
When Dora came downstairs arrayed in her proper costume, Ralph thought
her a great deal prettier than when she wore the pink chintz. Miss
Panney thought so, too, and she managed to leave them together, while
she went with Miriam to get pen and paper with which to write a note to
Molly Tooney.
"Molly cannot read," said the old lady, "but if Mike will take that to
her, she will come to you and stay as long as you like," and then she
went on to talk about the woman until she thought that Ralph and Dora had
had about five minutes together, which she considered enough.
"You must both come and see me," cried Miss Bannister, as, leaning from
the phaeton, she stretched out her hand to Miriam.
"Indeed we shall do so," said Ralph, and as his sister relinquished the
hand of the visitor he took it himself.
Miss Panney was not one of those drivers who start off with a jerk. Had
she been such a one, Miss Bannister might have been pulled against the
side of the phaeton, for the grasp was cordial.