The question of "wherewithal shall we be clothed," which has vexed the
world since its beginning in the garden "planted eastward in Eden,"
confronts the children of Eve so persistently at every serious crisis of
life that one is forced to the conclusion that clothes sustain a very
real and vital relation to destiny. Even Solomon in all his glory must
earnestly have considered the colour and texture of his famous robes of
state when he was making ready to dazzle the eyes of the Queen of Sheba,
and the Jewish Esther's royal apparel and Joseph's coat of many colours
played important parts in the history of a nation.
Elizabeth North had been engaged to be married to Samuel Brewster
exactly a fortnight when the age-long question presented itself to her
attention. It was perhaps inevitable that she should have thought
speculatively of her wedding gown; what girl would not? But in the
sweet amaze of her new and surprising happiness she might have gone on
wearing her simple girlish frocks quite unaware of its relation to her
wardrobe. She owed her awakening to Miss Evelyn Tripp.
Elizabeth had known Evelyn Tripp in a distant fashion suited to the
great gulf which appeared to exist between the fashionable lady from
Boston, who was in the habit of paying semi-annual visits to Innisfield,
and the young daughter of the country doctor. She had always regarded
Miss Tripp as the epitome of all possible elegance, and vaguely
associated her with undreamed-of festivities and privileges peculiar to
the remote circles in which she moved when absent from Innisfield.
Miss Tripp explained her presence in the quiet village after one formula
which had grown familiar to every one. "I was _completely_ worn out, my
dear; I've just run away from a perfect whirl of receptions, teas,
luncheons and musicales; really, I was _on the verge_ of a nervous
breakdown when my physician simply _insisted_ upon my leaving it all. I
_do_ find dear, quiet Innisfield so _relaxing_ after the social strain."
Miss Tripp's heavily italicised remarks were invariably accompanied by
uplifted eyebrows, and a sweetly serious expression, alternating with
flashing glimpses of very white teeth, and further accented by
numberless little movements of her hands and shoulders which suggested
deeper meanings than her words often conveyed.
Ill-natured people, such as Mrs. Buckthorn and Electa Pratt, declared
that Evelyn Tripp was thirty-five if she was a day, though she dressed
like sixteen; and furthermore that her social popularity in Boston was a
figment of her own vivid imagination. Elizabeth North, however, had
always admired her almost reverently, in the shy, distant fashion of the
young, country-bred girl.
Miss Tripp was unquestionably elegant, and her smart gowns and the large
picture hats she affected had created quite their usual sensation in
Innisfield, where the slow-spreading ripples of fashion were viewed
with a certain stern disfavour as being linked in some vague manner with
irreligion of a dangerous sort. "She's too stylish to be good for much,"
being the excellent Mrs. Buckthorn's severe corollary.
Miss Tripp had been among the first to press friendly congratulations
upon young Brewster, who on his part received them with the engaging
awkwardness of the unaccustomed bachelor.
"You are certainly the _most_ fortunate of men to have won that sweet,
simple Elizabeth North! I've known her since she was quite a
child--since we were both children, in fact, and she was always the same
unspoiled, unaffected girl, so different from the young women one meets
in society circles."
"She's all of that," quoth the fortunate engineer, vaguely aware of a
lack of flavour in Miss Tripp's encomium, "and--er--more."
Whereat Miss Tripp laughed archly and playfully shook a daintily gloved
finger at him. "I can see that you think no one is capable of
appreciating your prize; but I assure you _I do_! You shall see!" This
last was a favourite phrase, and conveyed quite an alluring sense of
mystery linked with vague promise of unstinted benevolences on the part
of Miss Tripp. "Do you know," she added seriously, "I am told that you
are closely related to Mrs. J. Mortimer Van Duser. She is a wonderful
woman, so prominent in the best circles and interested in so many
important charities."
Samuel Brewster shook his head. "The relationship is hardly worth
mentioning," he said. "Mrs. Van Duser was a distant relative of my
mother's."
"But of course you see a great deal of her when you are in Boston; do
you not?" persisted the lady.
"I dined there once," acknowledged the young man, vaguely uneasy and
rather too obviously anxious to make his escape, "but I dare say she has
forgotten my existence by this time. Mrs. Van Duser is, as you say, a
very--er--active woman."
On the following day Elizabeth North encountered Miss Tripp on the
street. She was about to pass her after a shy salutation, when Miss
Tripp held out both hands in a pretty, impulsive gesture. "I was just on
my way to see you, dear; but if you are going out, of course I'll wait
till another day. My dear, he's _simply_ perfect! and I really
_couldn't_ wait to tell you so. Do tell me when you are to be married?
In June, I hope, for then I shall be here to help."
Elizabeth blushed prettily, her shy gaze taking in the details of Miss
Tripp's modish costume. She was wondering if a jacket made like the one
Miss Tripp was wearing would be becoming. "I--we haven't thought so far
ahead as that," she said. Then with a sudden access of her new dignity.
"Mr. Brewster expects to return to Boston in the spring. The work here
will be finished by that time."
Miss Tripp's eyes brightened with a speculative gleam. "Oh, then you
will live in _Boston_! How _delighted_ I am to hear _that_! Did you
know your _fiance_ is related to Mrs. Mortimer Van Duser? and that he
has _dined_ there? _You didn't?_ But of course you must have heard of
Mrs. Van Duser; I believe your minister's wife is a relative of hers.
But Mrs. Van Duser doesn't approve of Mrs. Pettibone, I'm told; her
opinions are so odd. But I _am_ so glad for you, my dear; if everything
is managed properly you will have an _entree_ to the most exclusive
circles." Miss Tripp's eyebrows and shoulders expressed such unfeigned
interest and delight in her prospects that Elizabeth beamed and smiled
in her turn. She wished confusedly that Miss Tripp would not talk to her
about her engagement; it was too sacred, too wonderful a thing to
discuss on the street with a mere acquaintance like Miss Tripp. Yet all
the while she was rosily conscious of her new ring, which she could feel
under her glove, and a childish desire to uncover its astonishing
brilliancy before such warmly appreciative eyes presently overcame her
desire to escape. "Won't you walk home with me?" she asked; "mother will
be so glad to see you."
"Oh, _thank_ you! Indeed I was coming to condole with your dear mother
and to wish you all sorts of happiness. I've so often spoken of you to
my friends in Boston."
Elizabeth wondered what Miss Tripp could possibly have said about her to
her friends in Boston. But she was assured by Miss Tripp's brilliant
smile that it had been something agreeable. When she came into the room
after removing her hat and cloak she found her mother deep in
conversation with the visitor, who made room for her on the sofa with a
smile and a graceful tilt of her plumed head.
"We've been talking about you every minute, dear child. You'll see what
a _sweet_ wedding you'll have. Everything must be of the very latest;
and it isn't a minute too soon to begin on your trousseau. You really
ought to have everything hand-embroidered, you know; those flimsy laces
and machine-made edges are so common, you won't _think_ of them; and
they don't wear a bit well, either."
Mrs. North glanced appealingly at her daughter. "Oh," she said, in a
bewildered tone, "I guess Elizabeth isn't intending to be married for a
long, long time yet; I--we can't spare her."
Miss Tripp laughed airily. "_Poor_ mamma," she murmured with a look of
deep sympathy, "it _is_ too bad; isn't it? But, really, I'm sure you're
to be congratulated on your future son-in-law. He belongs to a _very_
aristocratic family--Mrs. Mortimer Van Duser is a relative, you know;
and dear Betty must have everything _suitable_. I'll do some pretty
things, dear; I'd love to, and I'll begin this very day, though the
doctor has absolutely forbidden me to use my eyes; but I simply can't
resist the temptation."
Then she had exclaimed over the sparkle of Elizabeth's modest diamond,
which caught her eyes at the moment, and presently in a perfumed rush of
silken skirts and laces and soft furs Miss Tripp swept away, chatting to
the outermost verge of the frosty air in her sweet-toned drawling voice,
so different from the harsh nasal accents familiar to Innisfield ears.
Elizabeth drew a deep breath as she watched the slim, erect figure move
lightly away. She felt somehow very ignorant and countrified and totally
unfit for her high destiny as a member of Boston's select circles. As a
result of these unwonted stirrings in her young heart she went up to her
room and began to look over her wardrobe with growing dissatisfaction.
Her mother hearing the sound of opening and shutting drawers came into
the room and stood looking on with what appeared to the girl a
provokingly indifferent expression on her plump middle-aged face.
"It is really too soon to begin worrying about wedding clothes, Bessie,"
observed Mrs. North with a show of maternal authority. "Of
course"--after a doubtful silence--"we might begin to make up some new
underclothes. I've a good firm piece of cotton in the house, and we can
buy some edges."
The girl suddenly faced her mother, her pink lips thrust forward in an
unbecoming pout. "Why, mother," she said, "don't you know people don't
wear things made out of common cotton cloth now; everything has to be as
fine and delicate as a cobweb almost, and--hand-embroidered. You can
make them or buy them in the stores. Marian had some lovely things when
she went to college. All the girls wear them--except me. Of course I've
never had anything of the sort; but I suppose I'll have to now!"
She shut her bureau drawer with an air of finality and leaned her
puckered forehead upon her hand while the new diamond flashed its blue
and white fires into her mother's perplexed eyes.
"We'll do the very best we can, dear," Mrs. North said after a
lengthening pause; "but your father's patients don't pay their bills
very promptly, and there are the boys' college expenses to be met; we'll
have to think of that."
This conversation marked the beginning of many interviews, gradually
increasing in poignant interest to both mother and daughter. It appeared
that "Sam," as Elizabeth now called her lover with a pretty hesitancy
which the young man found adorable, wished to be married in June, so as
to take his bride with him on a trip West, in which business and
pleasure might be profitably combined.
Mrs. North demurred weakly; but Dr. North was found to be on the side of
the young man. "I don't believe in long engagements myself," he had
said, with a certain suspicious gruffness in his tones. "I hoped we
should have our daughter to ourselves for a while longer; but she's
chosen otherwise, and there is no use and no need to wait. We'll have to
let her go, wife, and the sooner the better, for both of them."
The important question being thus finally decided, not only Miss Tripp
but the Norths' whole circle of acquaintances in Innisfield, as well as
the female relations, near and far, were found ready and anxious to
engage heart and soul in Elizabeth's preparations for her wedding, which
had now begun in what might be well termed solemn earnest.
"Are we going to--keep house?" Elizabeth asked her lover in the first
inrush of this new tide of experience which was soon to bear her far
from the old life.
"To keep house, dear, with you would be pretty close to my idea of
heaven," the young man had declared with all the fervour of the
inexperienced bachelor. "I've boarded for nearly six years now with
barely a taste of home between whiles, and I'm tired of it. Don't you
want to keep house, dear?"
And Elizabeth answered quite sweetly and truly that she did. "I can
cook," she said, proud of her old-fashioned accomplishment in the light
of her new happiness. "We will have just a little house to begin with,
and then I can do everything."
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 fashionable 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-fashioned 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.