“I am glad,” said I, “for I know what that means. Grandmamma likes Annas, and will like Flora in time. Don’t be any shyer than you can help, Flora; that will not please her.”
“I do not think I am shy,” said Flora; “at least, I never felt so before. But to-night— Cary, I don’t know what it looked like! I could only think of a great spider’s web, and we three poor little flies had to walk straight into it.”
“I wonder where Duncan and Angus are to-night,” said Annas; “I hope no one is playing spider there.”
Flora sighed, but made no answer.
Our new gowns had to be made in a great hurry, for Grandmamma had invited an assembly for the Thursday night, and she wished Flora and me to be decently dressed, she said. I am sure I don’t know how the mantua-maker managed it, for the cloth was only bought on Monday morning; I suppose she must have had plenty of apprentices. The gowns were sacques of cherry damask, with quilted silk petticoats of black trimmed with silver lace. I find hoops are all the mode again, and very large indeed—so big that when you enter a door you have to double your hoop round in front, or lift it on one side out of the way. The cap is a little scrap of a thing, scarce bigger than a crown-piece, and a flower or pompoon is stuck at the side; stomachers are worn, and very full elbow-ruffles; velvet slippers with high heels. Grandmamma put a little grey powder in my hair, but when Flora said she was sure that her father would disapprove, she did not urge her to wear it. But she did want us both to wear red ribbons mixed with our white ones. I did not know what to do.
“I did not know Mrs Desborough was a trimmer,” said Annas, in the severest tone I ever heard from her lips.
“What shall we do?” said I.
“I shall not wear them,” said Flora. “Mrs Desborough is not my grandmother; nor has my father put me in her care. I do not see, therefore, that I am at all bound to obey her. For you, Cary, it is different. I think you will have to submit.”
“But only think what it means!” cried I.