“But there isn’t another, Mrs. Perry said so.”
“Then stop fussing and take the gifts the gods send you. Try on this coat. The things aren’t quite new, but they are just as good, and of finer quality than I could afford. Whoever sent them must have known that it was time you lightened your mourning, for they are exactly right. The coat is a little long, but that can soon be remedied, and the hat looks fine with it. We’d better take everything up-stairs, and you can try on the dresses. My, Ellen, but that box certainly is a godsend.”
“And the only one I can thank for it is God, because I don’t know any Mary West.”
“Well, I wouldn’t bother about it. Probably some of your city friends or some old friend of your mother’s has heard about you, and thought this would be a nice, thoughtful way of serving you.”
Ellen accepted this explanation, although it was not the right one, and went up to try on the dresses, which, with some alterations, Miss Rindy declared would do perfectly.
“I declare,” she said, “if I had picked them out myself I couldn’t have done better. Now you are all ready for the city,” she added with satisfaction.
“But I haven’t been invited.”
“I thought you said you had a standing invitation from that Mrs. Austin.”
“So I had, but it might not be convenient just at this time.”
“Better write and find out; that’s easy to do. What about that Mr. Barstow, your father’s friend?”