IN DESPAIR
As Elizabeth tossed the pile of summer frocks on the lounge her mother
took them up one by one and examined them. Finally she selected two and
said: “These seem to be in the best condition, but it has been several
months since you wore them and you have grown, Elizabeth. You’d better
try them on and if they are all right I will get Electra to press out
one of them.”
Off went Elizabeth’s frock, Betsy’s nimble fingers helping her to
unfasten it. “Try the white one first,” suggested Betsy.
Elizabeth slipped it on, then looked down at her arms and legs which
seemed to have shot out suddenly like a telescope. “Oh dear, it is much
too short in the sleeves and skirt,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t know I
had grown so much.”
“You remember that you did not wear this many times last summer, for
you were laid up with those eyes of yours,” said her mother. “One can
grow a good deal in six months. Try the other one, daughter. Perhaps it
will be better.”
Elizabeth tried on the next selection, a pretty little organdy with
tiny bunches of flowers over it. She liked this frock very much
and hoped it would do. But, alas, it was as bad as the other, and
Elizabeth’s face fell. “I can never wear them, can I, mother? What
shall I do? I have nothing but winter frocks and they will look so
funny. I’d almost rather not go than wear a woollen frock when all the
other girls will have on light ones.”
Kathie had taken up the white frock and was examining it. “It would be
very little trouble to change these into elbow sleeves if there were
any way of lengthening the skirt. It has already been faced, I see. I
suppose you haven’t a piece of embroidery or insertion that could be
put on.”
Elizabeth’s face brightened as she listened to the suggestions. It
seemed a very easy matter to make the alterations, she thought.
But Mrs. Hollins shook her head. “I am afraid I have not a scrap of
anything that would do and it is too late to send to town for anything.
I use up materials very closely, and what Elizabeth outgrows we make
over for Babs, you know. Let us see what can be done with the organdy.”
Kathie began overlooking the frock. “It hasn’t been faced,” she said,
“but I am afraid it has faded and would show where it was let down.
I will measure the other skirts and see if there are any longer than
these or that have not been faced.”
However, it appeared that there was nothing any more promising.
Elizabeth’s wardrobe had not been added to very liberally the summer
past as she was housed the greater part of it. Seeing the state of
things, the tears gathered in the child’s eyes. “I can’t go, I can’t
go,” she wailed. “Oh, fate is cruel, cruel! To hold this beautiful
prospect before me and then to snatch it away. I was resigned to
staying at home till I got the invitation, but now it is much more
bitter.”
“My dear child,” begged her mother, “don’t take it so tragically. We
will try to contrive something. If we only had a little more time we
could make over something, I am sure, but with only one day, I am
afraid we couldn’t. I wish I had more of that white material, Kathie;
it might do to piece on a hem; it could be done neatly, or could be
joined with lace or something of that kind. I am sure I have no more
of the stuff, for I remember I used the last scrap for the sleeves.
Suppose you look through your things and see what there is; you might
find something that could be ripped from one of your frocks and could
be used.”
Elizabeth lifted her head from the pillow where she had buried it, and
felt somewhat heartened. “Would you have time to alter it, mother, if
Kathie does find anything?” she asked.
“Oh, yes, I think so,” said her mother cheerfully. “We will make time.
There is the rest of this afternoon and evening, and all day tomorrow.”
“But tomorrow is New Year’s; I’d hate to have you sew all day on New
Year’s Day,” said Elizabeth.
“I might be doing something worse,” replied her mother with a smile.
“Don’t worry over that, my dear. If we can find anything to eke out I
shall be only too glad to do the sewing and Kathie can help.”
Presently Kathie returned with some things hanging over her arm. “I am
afraid there is nothing among my things that will match the lace on
the waist,” she said, “but we can see.” Then followed an attempt at
matching, much discussion and suggestion, but finally one after another
garment was discarded. Kathie sat with knitted brows, pinching her
lips and turning over the remainder of Elizabeth’s frocks. The least
attractive frock seemed the only possible one; it was a plain little
dimity which nobody regarded with much favor.
“I’m in despair,” said Elizabeth plaintively. “I hate not to look as
nice as the others.”
“I hate it, too,” said her mother, “but I do not see anything else to
do.”
“I will lend you my gold beads,” said Kathie comfortingly, “and I will
look among my ribbons to see if I can find anything that will do for
your hair. I wish you had some pretty slippers and stockings; they
would add a great deal.”
“I have white stockings, and those white canvas slippers. I suppose
they will have to do.”
“I will clean the shoes,” Kathie offered, “and they will not look
badly.”
She picked up the dimity frock and began to rip out the hem.
Elizabeth watched her with anything but enthusiasm. It did seem hard
luck that the very prettiest of her frocks must be the one that she
could not wear. Presently Kathie threw down her work and went out of
the room. Just then Miss Jewett was announced. “I could not rest till I
learned whether you had your invitation to the party, Elizabeth,” she
said, “I found out this morning from Mrs. Ferguson that by all rights
you should have had it and I hoped she had sent it.”
“She did send it right away, by Betsy,” Elizabeth told her. “Did you
have a good time, Miss Jewett? I am so glad you have come back.”
“I believe I am glad to get back,” replied Miss Jewett with a smile.
“Of course I was glad to be with my people and to see my friends, but
I never did care for a big city and after being here all this time it
seemed more unattractive than ever. But, Elizabeth, you don’t seem to
be very enthusiastic about the party.”
“I am enthusiastic about the party,” answered she, “but I am far,
far from enthusiastic about my frock. Isn’t it a cruel misfortune,
Miss Jewett, that I have grown so that all my summer clothes are too
small for me. Only one, poor, mean little dimity can be made to do.
I wouldn’t care so much if this were not so very, very grand a party
and all the fine dressing there will make me appear a poor Cinderella
indeed.”
Miss Jewett laughed. “But you must remember that Cinderella had
perfectly gorgeous clothes for the party; her fairy godmother saw to
that, you know.”
“But, alas, I have no fairy godmother,” returned Elizabeth. “I must
confess, Miss Jewett,” she whispered, “that I shouldn’t care so much if
it were not for Corinne. I know she will nudge the others and look me
up and down in that supersillyous way she has.”
There was mirth in Miss Jewett’s eyes as she asked: “How do you spell
supercilious, Elizabeth?”
“S-u, su, p-e-r, per, s-i-l-l-y, silly, o-u-s, ous,” replied Elizabeth
promptly.
“Before I tell you whether that is right or wrong I would like to know
what is your idea of the meaning of the word,” said Miss Jewett.
“Super means above, or more than,” Elizabeth answered, “so I should
think it meant more than silly.”
Miss Jewett threw back her head and laughed heartily. “Oh, Elizabeth,
I might know you would have some original way of getting at it. Your
dictionary will tell you that it is derived from a Latin word which
means lifting an eyebrow.”
“Oh, yes, that is just the way Corinne does,” returned Elizabeth with
satisfaction. “She lifts her eyebrows in that haughty way and makes you
feel so--so,----”
“Like slapping her,” put in Betsy.
“That is just what you do feel like,” agreed Elizabeth. “I should enjoy
the party much more if she were not going to be there.”
“Well, there is one thing you may be sure of,” said Miss Jewett
confidently; “you will enjoy it much more than she will, for all her
fine clothes.”
“How can you tell that, Miss Jewett?” asked Elizabeth.
“The kingdom of heaven is within you,” quoted Miss Jewett with a smile.
“I don’t believe you will mind, once you get into the good time,
whether you have on a plain frock or not. Why, the best time I ever had
at a party was when I wore my street dress. It was in the country and
my trunk somehow went astray, so I had to make the best of it, though
everyone else had on something appropriate.”
This was consoling information to Elizabeth, yet the thought of the
blue chiffon and the lace-over-pink costumes still troubled her. “Betsy
has a lovely white mull,” she told Miss Jewett.
But just as she spoke Kathie entered. She greeted Miss Jewett cordially
and in a few minutes bore her off to her room, from which Elizabeth and
Betsy were excluded. Miss Jewett was very fond of Kathie and though she
was several years older she enjoyed Kathie’s society more than that of
any other girl in the village. Kathie admired and liked Miss Jewett
immensely and the two had many good times together. Probably one reason
for their intimacy lay in the fact that Miss Jewett was engaged to
Betsy’s uncle, while Kathie and Betsy’s brother, Hal, hoped some day to
marry.
“I do wish Elizabeth did have something more suitable,” declared
Kathie, as she set to work upon the dimity skirt. “She usually doesn’t
care much about having a special dress, but this is supposed to be such
a very grand affair and she has heard the other girls talk so much
about it that somehow she feels a little sensitive, and no wonder. If
the invitation had only come in time we could have sent to the city for
material to make a new frock.”
“It is too bad,” returned Miss Jewett. “I don’t blame the child in the
least for feeling a little dissatisfied; even an older person would be
justified in doing so. I suppose you have nothing you could make over
for her, Kathie?”
“Why, yes, I have, but there is not time enough. The party comes off
tomorrow night, you know. I am perfectly willing to sew every minute,
but I am afraid to promise, for it would be worse to disappoint her
than to have her wear the dimity.”
“What did you think of making over for her? I wish you would let me
see,” said Miss Jewett.
Kathie went to her clothes-press and brought out a yellow silk muslin.
It had little satiny dots upon it and was very pretty. “I thought
of this,” she said. “It is quite impossible for me as it is. There
is a big spot on the front of the skirt where one of the boys spilt
ice-cream, but there is plenty in it to make an entire frock for
Elizabeth.”
“It would just suit her, too,” Miss Jewett declared. “And I have some
reddish-brown velvet which would make lovely bows for her hair. Oh,
Kathie, I wish you would let me help you make it as a surprise for her.
I tell you what you do; take all the measurements and bring the stuff
down to our house tomorrow morning. Auntie will be delighted to have
us use her machine. We can get some of the other girls to come if your
mother cannot, and we will rush it through. Now, not another word; it
has got to be done. I have set my heart on it. I’ll stay this evening,
if you say so, and we can get it started. Oh, there will not be the
slightest difficulty in finishing it, I am sure.”
“You dear thing!” cried Kathie. “That would be perfectly lovely. We
will not say a word to Elizabeth till it is all ready. I can see her
delight.”
“She will look just like a bright nasturtium,” Miss Jewett went on. “I
wish she had shoes and stockings the color of the velvet.”
“She has only white ones that would do.”
“Then I will tell you what we can do; we can dye the stockings, Auntie
will attend to that; she is a great hand at dyeing, and I will paint
the shoes. I have plenty of colors and I know I can do it.”
“You are a positive genius,” exclaimed Kathie. “I must go and tell
mother; she will be so pleased.”
“Shall I commence to rip up the yellow frock while you are gone?” asked
Miss Jewett, determined that no time should be lost.
“It is too dark, I am afraid, but I will bring a light at once.”
Mrs. Hollins was highly pleased at the secret, and the two friends
began at once upon the task. Elizabeth and Betsy were denied admittance
and the next morning Kathie started off early to Miss Dunbar’s,
carrying materials in a suit-case and providing herself with all
necessary measurements as well as with one of Elizabeth’s frocks for
a guide. She remained away all day, calling up her mother on the
telephone once in awhile to report progress, in order that Mrs. Hollins
might know whether her help would be needed.
About dark Elizabeth heard her sister’s and Miss Jewett’s voices in the
hall below. “It’s all ready, Elizabeth,” called Kathie cheerily. “Go
into my room and we’ll help you dress. Bring your things in there. We
are going right up.”
“I can’t find my shoes and stockings,” came word over the balusters
presently.
“Oh, can’t you?” Kathie made answer. “Never mind. I took the shoes, you
know. I’ll get them when I come. I do want you to see what a darling
little frock we have made,” she said in a subdued voice to her mother,
as she hastily opened the suit-case and brought forth the yellow silk
muslin. “I suppose she will have to know at once because she will have
to see the shoes and stockings. Look at these dear velvet bows, mother.
Won’t they look fine on the child’s auburn head. Mattie Paine is going
to send over a yellow fan she has, and I am going to lend my beads, the
gold ones. Coming, Elizabeth!”
Cutting short her mother’s exclamations of admiration and pleasure,
Kathie hastily put the frock back and ran upstairs, Miss Jewett and
Mrs. Hollins following, all three being eager to see how Elizabeth
would take her surprise.
“We shall want more light than this,” decided Kathie, as she entered
the room lighted by only a small lamp. “I’ll go get the big lamp from
mother’s room, Elizabeth.” She hurried out, leaving Elizabeth standing
in the middle of the floor, dressed up to the point of petticoats but
wearing her bedroom slippers. “You can take off that extra petticoat;
you won’t need it,” remarked Kathie, setting down the lamp and lifting
the suit-case to a chair.
“Why won’t I need it?” inquired Elizabeth. “I always wear two with thin
frocks in winter.”
“Never mind, do as I tell you,” commanded Kathie, fumbling at the
fastening of the suit-case. “Here are your shoes and stockings,” she
continued with a little laugh, handing them to her sister.
“Why, why,--” began Elizabeth.
Mrs. Hollins and Miss Jewett stood by smiling at her. Kathie shook out
the yellow frock. “Here is your costume, Miss Elizabeth,” said Kathie.
“It has changed color since last night, hasn’t it?”
Elizabeth looked with astonishment growing into delight as Kathie held
up the frock. Then she gave one squeal of excitement and threw herself
prone on the bed, from which she immediately raised herself to say:
“Oh, what a delirious dream of delight! I have a fairy godmother after
all.”
“You seem to have had several of them,” returned her mother, “and they
have been working like Trojans for you all day. They gave your own
mother no chance to lend a hand.”
The yellow frock went on over a soft silk slip of the same color, made
from Kathie’s; the shoes and stockings were pronounced “Too fine for
anything!” the bows were adjusted upon the curling auburn locks, the
gold beads were fastened around the slim little neck and Elizabeth
stood arrayed. It was a simple little costume, with elbow sleeves and
round neck, very slightly cut out, but Elizabeth envied no one. Let who
would wear blue chiffon and lace over pink--she did not care; and she
went off with such a radiant face as repaid those who had spent New
Year’s Day working for her.
With her brother Dick as escort and well wrapped up for the cold walk,
Elizabeth fared forth gayly. At the gate of the Lynde house they met
Betsy and Hal. The house looked very festive, brightly illuminated
as it was. The door was flung open with a flourish by an obsequious
individual, a nephew of aunt Darkey’s who had come up from the city to
serve upon this occasion. “Ladies’ room to de right; gemmans’ to de
lef,” he announced, much as if he were calling off the figures in a
dance; and the two little girls excitedly went up, turning their heads
to notice the decorations, the odor of flowers and the subdued strains
of music. It was all their fancy painted it. “If only Corinne were
different,” was Elizabeth’s only regret.
Betsy had been let into the secret of Elizabeth’s dress, but clung
to her white mull as being quite nice enough. She looked very dainty
and sweet and was as appreciative as Elizabeth could wish when the
wonderful frock was displayed to her. They went downstairs together and
on to the drawing-room where stood Bess in all the magnificence of blue
chiffon and pink rosebuds. Several guests had arrived and these stood
in little groups, rather shy and awkward as yet. Elizabeth and Betsy
made their greetings and then looked around the room. Corinne was not
there. “Probably she preferred to be fashionably late,” conjectured
Elizabeth. “Corinne hasn’t come yet,” she ventured to Bess.
For a moment Bess was possessed by mixed feelings, part relief part
shame. No one knew; no one would ever know why Elizabeth’s invitation
had failed to reach her at the proper time. Bess had no idea of
telling. She looked at Elizabeth, really quite pleased to see her
appearing so happy and so well dressed. After all there were no friends
like old friends. Elizabeth would be sure to do her share in making
the party a success. She was always the life of a company. “I am
awfully glad you could come, Elizabeth,” she said, with her old-time
cordiality. “Corinne has the mumps; she can’t come.”
And so the last unpleasant element passed out of Elizabeth’s
anticipations. It was a fine party. She enjoyed it to the extent of her
ability, which was great. Betsy, too, had almost as good a time. Bess
enjoyed it to the measure of her capacity, which Dick said was as a
half-pint measure to a gallon, when he was comparing the fulness of his
sister’s joy with that of the rest.