“The dark green will make you a nice afternoon frock; and you will want a smart black evening dress, and a ball-gown. Fletcher can make them all with a little assistance from Mrs. Cope in the village. For the ball dress, I fancy this white brocade trimmed with apple-green satin. How do you think that will look?”
“I don’t think I should care about it,” replied Letty.
“What!” exclaimed her aunt, staring at her in glassy amazement, “it would be charming. I remember I had a ball dress something like it years ago.”
“But fashions have changed since then,” objected the girl; “don’t you think a dress for a débutante should be soft, and all white, with perhaps a little silver?”
“Now, my dear, what can you possibly know about it?”
“Not much, I admit; we were very plainly dressed at school, and our clothes, I must confess, were dowdy, yet now and then, one had a chance of seeing what was worn—for instance, at the opera.”
“Do you mean on the stage?”
“Oh no, I mean the lovely elegant Court ladies that were in the boxes.”
“Then what is your own idea?” her aunt enquired sarcastically.
“I should like a soft white crêpe over white satin—with some silver embroidery on the body.”