She rose when I appeared, and, with a good deal of side-tracking on to irrelevant matters, chiefly connected with the excellence of her own children, she explained that her late husband’s brother had just died “over to Penglyn,” a little town fifteen miles away across the hills, and in a most un-get-at-able corner of the county.
The funeral was to-morrow, and neither she nor the family of the deceased had a scrap of black, “leastways, exceptin’ this bonnet, which don’t look really respeckful to ’im as is gone, being me own husband’s own brother.” I admit the item that had been placed upon her head—whether for use or adornment it was hard to decide—resembled a jaded hen’s nest more than anything else! The rest of her attire consisted of a green skirt, a crimson blouse, and a very light fawn coat (portions of costumes that had started life in considerably higher social circles in the village), and a purple crochet scarf.
Dimly it occurred to me that I had not seen Mrs. Price in bright colours before, for although she never wore the conventional widow’s weeds, she was usually in something black or dark; the matrons in our village haven’t gone in for skittish skirts or glaring colour-combinations as yet! I concluded, however, that her black clothes were too shabby. She was saying—
“And I didn’t know where to turn, m’m. Everybody saying they hadn’t none when I called, and there didn’t seem to be a soul left to go to, and that pore dear sister-in-law of mine—leastways same as, being me poor husband’s brother’s wife—with not a scrap to put on ’cept his best overcoat what she’s cuttin’ down for one of the boys.
“And then I bethought me of you, it come to me all of a suddint. I put down the pan of ’taters I was peeling and come straight up. ’Sm’ralder says to me, ‘But, mother, you can’t wear that ole bonnet up to that house!’ But I says to her, ‘It’s certain I can’t wear what I haven’t got, and the Queen haven’t sent me one of her done-with crowns yet.’ So I just come as best I could.”
I was a little surprised to hear that she had been refused at every door, for, irrespective of personal reputation, the better-off residents are always very good to any of the villagers who may be in want or in trouble; indeed, we have only one mean woman among us, she who once remarked to a paid lady-companion, newly-arrived from a freezingly cold journey, and badly in need of a cup of tea to eke out her skimpy cold-mutton-bone lunch: “I’m sure you will enjoy a glass of water. We have really beautiful water here. Pray help yourself whenever you like.”
Still, it was possible no one had had any black.
I meditated a moment on my own wardrobe and Mrs. Price’s capacious waist-measure! Virginia’s things would be still less use, as she is the size of a sylph.
“I’m afraid I haven’t anything that would fit you in the way of a skirt,” I began, “but I’ve a large winter jacket if you don’t think it will be too warm for June.”