“This plaid is a great favorite,” he said.
Mrs. Owen asked the price, and it was too high. “Why, it is double what it was before the war,” she said.
Everything was either too expensive or too frail. Mrs. Owen bought some white materials for best dresses for Peggy, but there seemed to be nothing in the shop that would do for common.
“I am afraid I shall have to wait until later in the season,” said Mrs. Owen. “I suppose you’ll have new things in?”
“The new goods will be more expensive still.”
Mrs. Owen sighed. There were drawbacks about having so little money. She had turned to leave the store when the man called after her:
“Mrs. Owen, I have something on the top shelf I think may suit you. It’s strong as nails, and it’s cheap. It’s almost as strong as the stuff butcher’s frocks are made of.”
Peggy gave a little cry of pleasure when she saw it, for it was such a delicious color. It made her think of the sky when it was a deep blue. Mrs. Owen was attracted to it because it was dark enough not to soil easily. But Peggy did not think of this; she just thought what a pleasure it would be to be dressed in something so pretty. It was so cheap that Mrs. Owen could hardly believe her ears when the man told her the price.
“We got in a lot of the material before the prices went up,” said he. “It is entirely out of fashion now. Nobody wants it.”
Peggy and her mother cared nothing about the fashion; and indeed they seemed to set the fashion, whatever they wore.