They are in my trunk, the two Christmas presents, and we have had a
grand time, Miss Araminta and Miss Susanna and I, buying their party
dresses and things, and it is as true as Scripture that at times there
is nothing better for the soul than pretty clothes for the body. And
nothing so chirps up a woman as to have on becoming ones that fit and
are fresh and make her feel she can walk across the floor without
wishing she had a shawl on. The way Miss Araminta has bloomed out is
as amazing as a moon-plant. And Miss Susanna has such a pleased smile
on her boarder-tired face that I have been up in the air just from
looking at her, and the best time I've ever had in my life has been in
taking charge of their money and spending it for them. The way they
agreed to get the dresses was this:
I told them it would be awfully exciting to have a secret and spring a
surprise on Mrs. General Gaines and Miss Bettie Simcoe and a few others
in town, and if they were willing I would design a dress for each of
them and Miss Fannie Cross would make the dresses, which would be of a
kind to suit their particular styles, and they could have them for the
party on the 17th. And if they didn't get them at once something would
happen to make them spend the money and it would be gone and they no
better off than before. And I mentioned that there was the loveliest
piece of black charmeuse at Mr. Peter Smith's, and that he was
expecting a piece of lavender satin on Thursday. I had been to see Mr.
Peter and the lavender was ordered before I told them it was coming.
Also a few other things had been ordered by wire, I going with him to
the telegraph-office to see him do it, being afraid to trust his
memory, which, like his methods, is right put-offy. Also I told them
there would be no time to hesitate. They got so flustrated at being
managed and so dazed by the pictures I showed them of the dresses I had
drawn that they were lambs, perfect lambs. They let me do everything I
told them ought to be done.
It was a real relief to them to have some one go ahead and decide
things and not give them time to think whether they should do this or
do that, or whether they had not better spend the money some other way.
Miss Susanna said, feebly, something about the roof needing to be
fixed, and that the cellar ought to have a new floor, but I told her it
would be sacrilegious to put a great-grandmother's silver pitcher on
the roof or in the cellar, and that it would mortify her heavenly
ancestors to know such a thing was being done, and I was surprised at
her mentioning it. The only suitable way in which it would be proper
to use the pitcher was in something personal, and as I was afraid Mr.
Peter Smith would sell the satin, it was so lovely and only a little
more than enough for a dress, I had told him to put it aside and I had
to let him know that afternoon if it was wanted. And another thing I
told her was that all her life other people had been getting her share
of nice things, and practicalities had eaten up everything pretty she
had wanted for years, and there was an end to making over, and that she
owed it to memories of the past to have a new dress for herself and not
let all the newness always appear on a certain person's back just
because that certain person happened to be young. Uncle Henson would
be at the door with the carriage at four o'clock, I told her, to take
us down-town, and she must be ready in time, as there was a good deal
to do. I wouldn't take a mint of money for the look that came in her
face as I talked. I have put it away for low-down days.
As for Miss Araminta--I wish I could write a book and put Miss Araminta
Armstrong in it. If the lady who wrote _Cranford_ had known her she
would have put her in, and it is a loss to literature that no one can
do again for little places and the Miss Aramintas of life what the
_Cranford_ writer did. She has told me right much about herself, and I
don't smile any more, even to myself, as I couldn't help doing at first
in the dark when I was so afraid I would roll on the floor and whoop
that I had to hold on to my chair with both hands. It is still funny
to hear her tell of her beaux who never quite came to the point, and
who were always snatched away at the critical moment by a
jealous-minded person who was close kin but whose name she never
mentions. But it isn't as funny as it used to be. It's queer how much
tragedy there is in the comic things of life. Ever since she was born
Miss Araminta has been a pieced-and-patched-up person, and never once
has she had everything new and to match at the same time. When I told
her about some of the things that must go with the lavender satin she
began to cry a little and said she oughtn't to let herself think about
indulgences of that sort, as her poor brother was not in business at
present and needed--
"Now look here, Miss Araminta," I said. "The first preparation you
have got to make for the party is to forget you have a brother and
remember your own body, which needs attention. It has come down from a
long line of people who took very good care to put expensive things on
theirs. And another thing you ought to remember is that if your
brother didn't know he could call on you every time he lost his job--"
"My brother has never had a job." Miss Araminta sat up at once and
wiped her eyes and left, unknowing, a streak of white down a pink cheek
that turned purple at the word "job." "He has been unfortunate in not
being able to retain certain positions he has once held, but his
health--"
"Rats!" It came out without thinking, but when a man has a worn-out
wife and seven children and won't do this and won't do that because it
is beneath his lordly ideas of what a well-born person should do, it is
better for me not to speak of him out loud. I told Miss Araminta she
must excuse me, but there were some sorts of men I couldn't mention
with safety and I thought "job" was a very good word, and I would
rather have one that paid a dollar a day than borrow money to pay my
bills, and that I'd sweep the streets before I would sit down and do
nothing if I had a wife and seven children. The look on her face I
tucked away, too, to take out on days when there isn't a thing in sight
to laugh at. She can't help it, Miss Araminta can't. She was born
that way and, not being an evoluting kind, words are wasted when it
comes to trying to make her see what she doesn't want to see. There is
a lot of bummy rot in this world which has nothing to do with the
proper kind of pride, and it's my belief we are mighty apt to fill the
place in life we are fitted to fill. If a dollar a day is all I am
worth it is all I ought to get until I make myself worth more. Of
course if people are feeble-minded that's a different thing. When they
are, the State ought to step in and take charge of them in order to
protect itself, Jess says, and also she says feeble-mindeders always
have the largest families, and even a feeble-minded person knows that
is not right.
I didn't mean to hurt Miss Araminta's feelings, but that brother of
hers is a snuff-the-moon old snob, and I was determined he shouldn't
get a penny of that sapphire money if I could help it, and I told Miss
Araminta a few firm facts. After a while she blew her nose and wiped
her eyes and I had no further trouble. But I was afraid to trust
either her or Miss Susanna with their money, so I took the checks back
and told them it was better for me to keep them, as money had such a
queer way of disappearing. Any that was handy was used when needed,
and when the time came to get the things the money was for there might
not be any to get. They handed it back as meek as little lambs.