“Oh, how pretty and simple!” exclaimed Miss Lucas.
“I have some lace exactly like that,” said Mrs. Staines.
“Then why don't you have a polonaise? The lace is the only expensive part, the muslin is a mere nothing; and it is such a useful dress, it can be worn over any silk.”
It was agreed Madame Cie was to send for the blue silk and the lace, and the dresses were to be tried on on Thursday.
On Thursday, as Rosa went gayly into Madame Cie's back room to have the dresses tried on, Madame Cie said, “You have a beautiful lace shawl, but it wants arranging; in five minutes I could astonish you with what I could do to that shawl.”
“Oh, pray do,” said Mrs. Staines.
The dressmaker kept her word. By the time the blue dress was tried on, Madame Cie had, with the aid of a few pins, plaits, and a bow of blue ribbon, transformed the half lace shawl into one of the smartest and distingue things imaginable; but when the bill came in at Christmas, for that five minutes' labor and distingue touch, she charged one pound eight.
Madame Cie then told the ladies, in an artfully confidential tone, she had a quantity of black silk coming home, which she had purchased considerably below cost price; and that she should like to make them each a dress—not for her own sake, but theirs—as she knew they would never meet such a bargain again. “You know, Miss Lucas,” she continued, “we don't want our money, when we know our customers. Christmas is soon enough for us.”
“Christmas is a long time off,” thought the young wife, “nearly ten months. I think I'll have a black silk, Madame Cie; but I must not say anything to the doctor about it just yet, or he might think me extravagant.”
“No one can ever think a lady extravagant for buying a black silk; it's such a useful dress; lasts forever—almost.”