So it was, that good woman in all her glory. She pushed the door wide open; for, with a huge panier added to her own generous proportions, the skirt of her dress turned upward, and thrown over her shoulders, that open space seemed scarcely sufficient to admit her.
“Just run down to give you a look at my dress before the carriage comes,” she exclaimed, flinging an avalanche of red moire antique down from her shoulders, and spreading it along the humble carpet with the pride of a peacock. “What do you think of that, now? Seven dollars a yard, and twenty-five yards, besides trimming. Going it, rather, for a corner groceryman’s wife, isn’t it? But when an old friend asks you, a’most with tears in her eyes, to be at her first party, one can’t refuse to do the thing up brown, which I think Smith and I have done it. Low in the neck, you see, and Marier Antoinet sleeves to say nothing of white kid-boots, with heels like that!”
Here Mrs. Smith lifted her dress and brought to view a high-heeled boot, strained till the buttons threatened to fly off, over a large, dumpty foot, looked exceedingly like an apple-dumpling prepared for cooking.
“There, now, girls, just take a survey of me all round, and give us your opinion; but first, Eva, let me have an observation. All in white, and looking like one of them great swans in the Park; not bad! Though I should like something a little more stylish. You are going as my friend, and I’m anxious about your looking first rate. Still, it’s my candid opinion that you’ll do. Step out here, and let us see how your dress falls. Gracious me, what a train! Longer than mine, I do believe; streaming out like a white banner. Yes, I say it again; you’ll do, Eva! Now just manage a thing or two for me. I couldn’t trust Kate Gorman to put on my head-dress, and brought it along. Stylish, isn’t it?”
Mrs. Smith drew a paper from her pocket, and unfolded a yellow feather, long enough to take in her head at one sweep, which she held up triumphantly.
“See how it curls and quivers; something like a feather, that! Now, I want you to put it on, like a queen wears her crown, over the forehead, round one side, and streaming out behind!”
Eva and Ruth changed glances of dismay. Both hesitated to wound the kind woman’s vanity, but felt that silence would be cruel.
“I would not wear anything on my head, Mrs. Smith; you have such fine hair, it seems a pity to conceal it,” said Ruth. “Let me do some braids, and change it a little. Then you can have nothing more becoming.”
“But I bought the feather a purpose,” answered Mrs. Smith, eyeing her purchase with rueful regret; “and it is such a splendid one, with a contrast to it. That was what the milliner observed when I told her the color of my dress.”
“Still I would not wear it this evening. Eva sees a great many stylish people, you know, and can tell you that feathers like that are not in the fashion for evening-dress, just now.”