"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 ship 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.
"Yes, m' dear; heard every word; you were saying you'd bought Bess a
lace wedding dress, and that Miss Tripp says they're very much worn,"
replied her husband, fixing on a stamp with a sounding thump of his big
fist. "Glad to hear it. Well, I'll have to be moving now. Good-bye, m'
dear; home to dinner if I can; if not----"
"If you could let me have two hundred and fifty dollars, Richard," said
Mrs. North rather faintly, "we'll try to manage with that for the
present."
"Well, now, Lizzie, when it comes to your wanting anything I always get
it for you--if I can; and you know that; but I sent off cheques to Frank
and Elliot this morning, and I'm what you'd call strapped."
"Couldn't you collect----"
The doctor kissed his wife cheerfully. "How can I, wifey, when folks
leave their doctor's bills till the last cent's paid to everybody else?
Don't know as I blame 'em; it's hard enough to be sick without having to
pay out money for it; now, isn't it?"
"Oh, Dick; if that isn't just like you! But I--I've thought of a way."
"Good! What is it?"
"We might--borrow some money on the house. Other people do, and----"
"Mortgage our house for wedding finery? I guess you're joking, Lizzie.
At any rate, I'll call it a joke and let it pass! Good-bye!" The quick
slam of the office door put a conclusive finish to the doctor's words,
and his wife went back to her work on one of Elizabeth's elaborate
garments with a heavy heart.
"What did Richard say?" Grandma Carroll wanted to know, when the girl
had gone into another room to be fitted.
"He said he couldn't possibly let me have anything more just now," said
Richard's wife with a shade of reserve in her voice. "You know, mother,
people are so slow in paying their bills. The doctor has any amount
outstanding if he could only get it."
"Such folks had ought to be made to pay before they get 'ary a pill or a
powder, same 's they do for what made 'em sick. They'd find money for
the doctor quick enough once they had a right sharp pain from
over-eating," was grandma's trenchant opinion. "But I expected he'd say
that all along, and I wanted to give you this for Lizzie."
She slipped a little roll of bills into her daughter's lap. "Don't say
anything to the child about it," she whispered, nodding her kind old
head; "it would worry her. Besides I don't approve of the amount of
money she's putting into perishable things. I meant to buy her a real
good clock or a nice solid piece of furniture; but if she'd rather have
lace frills that'll fall to pieces in the washtub, I'm willing she
should learn by experience, same 's we've had to do before her."
Mrs. North's eyes were moist and shining. "It's what you've been putting
by for years, mother," she whispered, "for----"
"Hush!" said grandma. "I guess when it comes right down to it I'm full
as foolish as Lizzie. Once I set foot in the golden streets I know I
sha'n't mind whether I leave a marble monument in the cemetery or not;
and you don't need to either, daughter. Now remember!"
Upon this hushed conversation entered Elizabeth in a flutter of
excitement and rosy pleasure over a letter which the postman had just
handed her. "It is from Evelyn Tripp," she said, "and she wants me to
come to Boston and stay a week with her; she says she will help me pick
out all my dresses, and I'd better have my wedding dress and my
going-away gown made there, anyway. Isn't that lovely?"
Then, as she met her mother's dubious gaze, "You know Malvina Bennett
hasn't a particle of style; and we don't know anything about the best
places to buy things in Boston; or the dressmakers, or anything."
"I've shopped in Boston for years," said Mrs. North, with a show of
firmness, "and I'm sure everything at Cooper's gives perfect
satisfaction."
"Oh, _Cooper's_?" laughed the girl. "Why, mother, _dear_, nobody goes to
Cooper's nowadays. It's just for country people from out of town."
"What are we, I'd like to know?" Grandma Carroll wanted to know, with a
humorous twinkle in her shrewd eyes. "I shouldn't wonder if you'd better
do your shopping with your mother, Lizzie; her judgment would likely be
quite as good as that Tipp girl's, and more in a line with what you can
afford. You should remember that Samuel isn't a rich man, and you'll
need good, substantial dresses that'll last. I remember I had a blue
Russell-cord poplin when I was married that I wore for _fifteen years_;
then I made it over for your mother, and she looked as pretty as a pink
in it for two more; then she outgrew it and I gave it away; but the
cloth in it was as good as new. A dress like that _pays_!"
Elizabeth laughed somewhat impatiently. "I've heard about that wonderful
poplin ever since I can remember," she said. "I wonder you didn't save
it for me. But I don't want to buy any dresses that will last for
fifteen years. I'm sure Sam can buy me more dresses when I want them. I
may go to Boston; mayn't I, mother?"
Mrs. North looked wistfully at the pretty, eager face. She had looked
forward with pleasure--somewhat tempered, it is true, by the knowledge
of her meagre resources, yet still with pleasure--to the choosing of her
daughter's wedding gown, with all its dainty accessories of tulle and
lace. "I had thought of a silk muslin," she said rather faintly, "or
perhaps a cream satin--if you'd like it better, dear, and----"
"I shouldn't like either of those," said the girl decidedly, "and
there's so much to do that it will really save time if you don't have to
bother with any of that; Evelyn (it was Evelyn and Elizabeth now) says
chiffon over liberty satin would be lovely if I can't afford the lace.
Of course I wouldn't buy a _cheap lace_."
That night when Dr. North came home he tossed a handful of bills into
his daughter's lap. "For the wedding gown, Bess," he said; "worse luck
that you want one!"
"Oh, why do you say that, you darling daddy?" murmured the girl, "when
I'm going to be so happy!" She was radiantly happy now, it appeared,
and the doctor's keen eyes grew moist as he looked at her.
"Guess I was thinking about myself principally," he confessed gruffly,
"and about your mother. We're going to be lonesome; and I--don't like to
think of it."
The girl's bright face clouded. "The boys will be at home summers," she
said, "and I'll come back to--visit often, you know. I sha'n't be far
away, daddy." She clung to him for a minute without a word, a faint
realisation of the irrevocable change so near at hand sweeping over her.
"Of course you _will_, Betsey Jane!" vociferated the doctor, affecting a
vast jocularity for the purpose of concealing his feelings, which
threatened to become unmanageable. "If you don't show up in Innisfield
about once in so often I'll come to Boston with my bag and give that
young robber a dose that will make his hair curl."
The next day the bride-elect journeyed to Boston carrying what appeared
to her a small fortune in her little hand-bag. "You've all been so
good!" she said. "I can just buy everything I need with all this."
Evelyn Tripp met Elizabeth in South Station with open arms. "How well
you are looking, you _darling_!" she exclaimed effusively. "Now if we
can only keep those roses through all the shopping and dressmaking. It
is so exhausting; but I've everything planned for you down to the last
frill, and Madame Pryse has at last consented to make your gowns! If you
_knew_ what I've been through with that woman! She simply will _not_
take a new customer; but when I mentioned the fact that you were to
marry a nephew of Mrs. Mortimer Van Duser she _finally_ capitulated. I
could have _embraced_ her!"
"But Sam isn't Mrs. Van Duser's nephew, Evelyn. I believe his mother was
Mrs. Van Duser's second cousin."
"Oh, well, that doesn't signify. I'm sure, I had to say something
convincing, and Mrs. Van Duser was my _dernier resort_. Pryse will do
anything for you now, you'll see, my dear! And, oh, Betty dear, when I
was in at Altford's yesterday I just chanced upon the most _wonderful_
bargain in a lace robe, and had it sent up on approval. The most
exquisite thing, and marked down from a hundred and twenty-seven dollars
to--what do you think?--only eighty-nine, fifty! I was _so_ pleased; for
I am sure it is _just_ what you want. I got samples, too, of the most
bewitching silks for your dinner gown--you must have at least _one_, you
know, a simple, pretty crepe de chine or something of the sort; and then
with a little frock or two for luncheons and card parties, your
tailor-made--that _must_ be _good_--and your wedding gown for evening
affairs you will do nicely."
"But, Evelyn," interrupted Elizabeth timidly, "I'm afraid I can't-- You
know I didn't expect to buy but two dresses in Boston. Malvina Bennett
is making me a black silk, and----"
Miss Tripp paused to smile and bow at a passing acquaintance; then she
turned protesting eyes upon the girl. "You _dear_ child," she murmured,
"you're not to worry about a _single_ thing. That's _just_ what I mean
to spare you. I am determined you shall have just what you are going to
_need_; and if you haven't enough money with you, I can arrange
everything at Altford's without a bit of trouble; and of course you will
pay Pryse _her_ bill when it is _perfectly_ convenient for _you_. She
doesn't _expect_ to be paid promptly. Really, I don't believe she would
have a particle of respect for a patron who insisted upon paying for a
gown the minute it was finished. First-class modistes and milliners,
too, are _all_ that way; they know better than to send their bills too
soon. So _that_ needn't bother you, dear; and of course Pryse _finds_
everything, which will save enormously on your outlay."
Elizabeth felt very meek and hopelessly countrified as she laid off her
wraps in Miss Tripp's rather stuffy but ornate little apartment. Mrs.
Tripp, a faded, apologetic person smelling of rice-powder and sachet,
smiled vaguely upon her and murmured something about "Evy's wonderful
taste!"
One thing at least was clear to Elizabeth as she lay wide-eyed in the
darkness that night, after an evening spent in the confusing examination
and comparison of fashion-plates and samples, and that was the
conviction that the "fortune" with which she had joyfully set forth that
morning had dwindled to a pitiful insufficiency before the multiplied
necessities imposed upon it by Miss Tripp's undeniable taste and
knowledge.
She almost wished she had chosen to do her shopping with her mother and
Grandma Carroll, as she realised that she would be obliged to write home
for more money. But it was too late to change her mind now; and, after
all, Evelyn knew best as to what a bride about to move in polite circles
in Boston would require. She went to sleep at last and dreamed of
standing up to be married in a Russell-cord poplin (whatever that
wonderful fabric might be) which had already done duty for fifteen
years, and was "as good as new."