ELIZABETH WEARS BLUE
If Betsy had not gone to the city with her aunt Emily on that rainy
Saturday it is doubtful if Elizabeth had been willing to spend so long
a time at the studio. As it was, Betsy had an account of the day’s
delights, and agreed with her first best that the game was scarcely
worth the candle as it deprived her of future visits.
“I suppose your mother didn’t say how long it would be before you could
go again,” said Betsy gravely.
“No; that’s just it,” replied Elizabeth. “I shall be on the tattered
edge of despair for who knows how long. Perhaps if I am very, very good
she will lift the dread decree sooner than if I were very, very bad.
Well,” Elizabeth sighed, “I suppose that those who dance must pay the
piper. It will always be a luminous day in the almanac of my thoughts.
Now tell me, Betsy, what sort of day did you have?”
“Oh, the usual kind. We shopped all the morning and went to the same
place for lunch that we always go, then aunt Emily called on old Miss
Peters, and we took the five o’clock train; that’s all.”
“Did you get the new hat?”
“Yes, and the stuff for two new frocks. Miss Cutter comes next week,
you know. One of the frocks is very pretty, I think; a challis with
weentsy blue flowers sprinkled over it. I am going to wear blue ribbons
with it.”
“I love blue and I can never, never wear it, Betsy,” said Elizabeth,
shaking her head mournfully.
“Oh well, I wouldn’t care. Maybe your children can, or at least some of
them, and that will do just as well.”
“That is a very comforting thought,” returned Elizabeth, “and you may
be very sure, Betsy, that I will treat with spurn any man with red hair
who comes to woo me.”
“Even if he should be a prince?” asked Betsy.
“Even if he were a king,” Elizabeth assured her. “What is your hat
like, Betsy? Are you going to wear it Sunday?”
“Aunt Emily says I must keep it for Easter. It is quite nice, yes; but
nothing very grand. Shall you get a new hat, Elizabeth?”
“I suppose not. We have to be very economical this year on account of
Dick’s going to college. Mother and Kathie were looking over things
yesterday, and they thought my hat would do. Kathie is going to retrim
it with some ribbons she has. I don’t care so very much for I seldom
wear it except to church and Sunday-school. I must try not to take an
interest in such carnial things if I am to be very, very good.”
Betsy laughed. “You are so funny, Elizabeth. I don’t think it is wicked
to like nice things.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t if you don’t follow after them to the seclusion
of anything else.” Elizabeth had heard her mother say something like
this, although she did not use the word seclusion. “Do you know what
I think I shall do so as to prove my sincereness to mother; I think
I shall mortify myself for a week or more and wear only the most
unbecoming and unappropriate things. Why,”--she sat up suddenly in
pleased excitement,--“I might even wear pink or blue.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t,” Betsy tried to dissuade her. “I don’t think it would
look a bit nice.”
“That is just my object. I shall be mortifying the flesh dreadfully;
and besides,” she added, “it would give me a chance for once in my life
to see how I really did look in those colors.”
“But you haven’t anything blue or pink,” Betsy reminded her.
“I have some old blue ribbons that Kathie gave me for my dolls, and I
might dye something. If I made a very, very strong blueing with laundry
blue I could dip an old white waist in it and it might do.” Elizabeth,
once launched upon such an enterprise, was eager to carry it to the
fullest lengths.
“What would Mr. Kemp say?” Betsy asked. “He would think you had very
poor taste and were very inartistic.”
“That would be part of the punishment, you see. It would be all the
better, for it was on his account that I erred and strayed from my
ways. Yes, I think it is exactly what I must do. You don’t mind, Betsy,
if I go now and prepare my penetential robes?” They were sitting under
their big trysting-tree back of the Tysons’ garden when this talk
took place. “Perhaps you would like to come with me and help dye the
waist,” Elizabeth proposed, seeing that Betsy looked dubious.
“Oh yes; that would be better,” agreed Betsy. “Shall you wear blue to
school tomorrow, Elizabeth? What will Miss Jewett think?”
“She may not approve, but I shall be disobeying no rules,” returned
Elizabeth steadfastly. “I suppose Corinne Barker will turn up her nose
and will make unkind remarks, but I must suffer in silence.”
Betsy giggled. She was well aware that all this was play more than
actual humility on the part of Elizabeth, but it was amusing and she
wanted to see how it would turn out. She did not know of another girl
who would be so daring in the face of established precedents.
“I will ask ’Lectra to press out the ribbons for me,” said Elizabeth,
as they trotted along home, “and I shall have to ask her for the blue.
I hope she is in a good humor.”
They found Electra disposed to grant any favor. The irons were on so it
was no trouble to press out the ribbons. As for the waist, Elizabeth
and Betsy preferred to try their experiments on that where they
would be unobserved. They chose the attic for their work, and, having
prepared a basinful of water, deeply, darkly blue, they dipped the
waist in several times and then hung it up to dry.
“It is lucky that it is that crêpe stuff that doesn’t need ironing,”
remarked Elizabeth as she carefully examined her work. “It is a waist
that was Kathie’s, you know. I hope it won’t be very streaky. I wish I
had a blue skirt to go with it, but as I haven’t I shall have to wear
brown.”
“They won’t look very pretty together,” said Betsy doubtfully.
“Am I doing this to look pretty?” inquired Elizabeth with disdain.
“Look at my hands, Betsy. Do you suppose the blue will come off?”
“You will have to scrub them pretty hard,” Betsy advised her.
But hard as she scrubbed there was a tinge of blue remaining although
Betsy comforted her by saying it would wear off. “Do you suppose your
mother will consent to your wearing blue--now you have gone to all this
trouble about it?” Betsy brought up this difficulty.
“Dear me, I don’t know. Well, all is, I shall make the experiment and
take the risks.” By this time Elizabeth had worked herself up into a
state of ardent desire to wear blue. It was the unusual which appealed
to her. It would make a small sensation and she wouldn’t tell anyone
why she did it, she said to herself. “All I shall say when they ask me,
if anyone does,” she said to Betsy, “is: It is a vow.”
Fortunately for her plan, she was the first down in the morning, and
only her father appeared before she finished breakfast. As he was not
so very observant, he did not notice the blue bows on her hair. They
were not well tied, but Betsy had promised to give the finishing touch,
and Elizabeth sped away without a farewell to any but her father,
saying that she had promised to stop at Betsy’s very early. Betsy
was as good as her word and attended to the bows, commenting upon
Elizabeth’s appearance as she did so. “The blue isn’t bad in one way,”
she said, “for it makes your cheeks look pinker and your skin whiter,
but--don’t get mad, Elizabeth,--it also makes your hair look redder.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” returned Elizabeth resignedly. “I expected that,
and indeed I noticed it myself. Is the waist very streaky, Betsy?”
“Why, no, not so very. It isn’t a very pretty color, but it is real
blue.”
“Then my purpose is accomplished,” declared Elizabeth.
There were many curious glances cast in her direction that morning.
Corinne and Bess giggled as Elizabeth knew they would and she was quite
sure that she could tell exactly what they whispered one to another,
but she bore herself gravely and did not look the least conscious. Even
Miss Jewett smiled when she saw the prancing blue bows adorning the
ruddy locks, but Elizabeth made no sign of seeing the smile. To all
questions from the more daringly curious she answered solemnly: “It is
a vow,” and nothing further would she say.
She felt very triumphant at having been able to carry out her intention
to the letter, although in her inmost heart she perfectly well knew
that the blue bows would be ordered off instantly as soon as she
reached home. She did not flinch, however, from the ordeal, but walked
in to dinner with all the composure of one well assured of her position.
“Will you look at Elizabeth?” cried Kathie as soon as she caught sight
of her costume. “You don’t mean to say that you have been to school in
that rig.”
“I certainly do,” returned Elizabeth calmly.
“Well, I should think you would be ashamed to be seen in it. Mother,”
she called, “do come here and see this child. I declare, I don’t know
what she will do next. Where did you get that hideous waist? I don’t
recognize it.”
“You should, for it used to be yours,” returned Elizabeth.
“Mine? I never possessed a queer fadey blue thing like that. Of all
combinations--with those sky-blue hair-ribbons. I don’t see what
induced you to put them together.”
“It was the best I could do,” Elizabeth told her. “I had nothing blue
and so I dyed the waist, and the ribbons were on a hat of yours that
you got wet. You gave them to me for my dolls and ’Lectra pressed them
out for me.”
Kathie gazed at her with an expression of helpless despair. “Mother,”
she said, as Mrs. Hollins entered the room, “do look at this child. Can
you believe she went to school dressed that way?”
“Why did you do so, Elizabeth?” asked her mother quietly.
“I did it to mortify the flesh,” returned Elizabeth defiantly, but
speaking to Kathie. “I think you are very wrong to discourage me from
keeping a vow and trying to be good. I can’t take pilgrimages and do
things like that, and you go to work and cast wet blankets upon my holy
purposes.”
Kathie had to laugh at the very injured expression. “I don’t see the
point yet,” she said, “but I do see that you are the most absurd child
that was ever created. Have you an idea of what drove her to this
absurdity, mother?”
“I think I have, perhaps. She will tell me, I am sure. Go on and eat
your dinner, Elizabeth, and we will see about this afterward.”
Elizabeth continued her meal with an air of virtuous indignation which
made her mother smile each time she looked at her. As she had done
nothing absolutely wrong she did not deserve so much as a scolding,
though her mother did wish she could get behind the appearance and find
the real motive. She put her arm around the child when they rose from
the table. “Suppose we go up and change those ribbons and that waist
for something more becoming,” she whispered.
Elizabeth obediently followed, feeling reassured and not at all
disturbed.
“Mother would very much like to know what was passing in that funny
little mind of yours when you put on these,” said Mrs. Hollins, as she
unfastened the startling bows. “You must have had some motive, I am
sure. Won’t you tell mother what it was?”
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “it began when I was trying to think of
something I could do to show you that I wanted to be very, very good,
so you would uplift the ban that wouldn’t allow me to go to the studio.
I tried to think of some holy mortification, and I couldn’t think of
anything but to wear blue, which you and Kathie have always told me
would make me look like a fright. I had these ribbons, but I didn’t
have any waist but this old one, and I thought if I blued it very, very
much it would do.”
“Didn’t the girls think you looked rather queer?” asked her mother.
“Oh yes; I expected that; it was part of the holy mortification.”
“Well, dear, if you thought it was such a righteous thing to do, and
one that deserved approval, why did you hurry off to school this
morning before I could see you?”
This was rather a staggering question, and Elizabeth was silent, not
knowing exactly how to answer it.
“If you did what you thought was a pious act because you wanted my
approval, I can’t see why you didn’t parade yourself before me the
first thing in the morning, so I could get the whole benefit of it,”
continued Mrs. Hollins. “’Fess up, Elizabeth. That was not the true
motive. You wanted to see how you would look in blue.”
“Well, yes; I suppose that was it,” answered Elizabeth, a little
shamefacedly. “But, mother, it really wasn’t in the beginning; only the
more I thought about it the more I wanted to do it. I have always been
crazy about blue and I thought there is the one chance of my life, so I
took it.”
“And are you quite satisfied?” asked her mother.
Elizabeth stroked lovingly the blue ribbons which her mother had taken
off. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I do wish I could wear them again
some day. Betsy says they are becoming to my complexion, but not to my
hair.”
“I think she is right.”
“When I grow up,” said Elizabeth, “I think I will go off somewhere for
a whole year, somewhere that I am a perfect stranger to everyone, and I
will dye my hair and wear blue for a whole year.”
Mrs. Hollins laughed. “Well, honey, that would be an idea, but now
you’d better run along. You look much more like my own little girl as
you are.”
However, Elizabeth did not have to grow up before she wore blue again,
for when she reached home that afternoon there was Mr. Kemp with a
delightful scheme to unfold. “My trunk full of costumes has come,” he
announced, “and I want you to come and help me unpack.”
Elizabeth looked at her mother. “You may go for a little while,” Mrs.
Hollins gave permission, “but you must be sure that she comes home
before dark, Mr. Kemp. She stayed much too long the last time.”
“I give you my word that I will bring her back before dark,” Mr. Kemp
promised, and the child went off, after giving her mother a rapturous
hug and kiss.
These costumes had been much talked over by Mr. Kemp and Elizabeth.
They appealed to her very strongly, for he had promised that she should
dress up in some of them. To wear a train, a peasant’s dress, a Watteau
costume and others quite as picturesque, was something the child had
been looking forward to for some time. The dressing up was not for that
day, however, for there was only time for a short survey. In the midst
of this Mr. Kemp exclaimed: “I’ll tell you what we will do, Elfie;
we’ll give some tableaux. This place is quite big enough, and we’ll
have a lot of the crowd here. We can make pictures, you know; set a big
frame over there and pose the figures behind it. That will be a fine
way to show off my costumes and be good fun, too.”
“And may I be in them?” asked Elizabeth eagerly.
“Well, rather,” replied Mr. Kemp.
“And could I wear this?” Elizabeth held up a blond wig, “and a blue
dress?”
Mr. Kemp laughed. Kathie had just been telling him of Elizabeth’s “holy
mortification,” to his great entertainment. “Blue it shall be,” he
declared. “I will rig you up as a Dresden shepherdess, if I can get
hold of a proper hat, and you shall be some other lovely female, a
portrait, maybe, by Reynolds or Gainsborough. Oh, we’ll fix you out
all right, but if I let you wear the wig you must make a bargain that
I have my way in making a Titian of you. I’ll tell you what, Elfie, I
will be Titian painting and you shall be the picture itself.”
They had a good laugh over this and, as it turned out, the tableau was
nearly spoiled because Elizabeth could not keep her face straight with
a paint brush so very near the corner of her mouth, and Mr. Titian
looking at her so fixedly with such a quizzical expression.
Everyone pronounced the pictures a great success, but Elizabeth’s
crowning joy was when she actually wore Miss Jewett’s hat trimmed
with corn-flowers and donned a blue dress to match it; yet, strange
to say, everyone declared that she was much more lovely in the Titian
picture, although it would be some years before she would grow into
an appreciation of this herself. After this she wore the blond wig
and the trailing blue frock many times, but never with such perfect
satisfaction as that first time.