“I’ve been turning out things in the box-room—in order to find a little black for that Mrs. Price. Her husband’s brother has just died, and the funeral is to be to-morrow, and she says no one in the place has any black in hand. So she came and asked me if I would mind lending her a black mantle!—lending it to her indeed!
“I asked her what she had done with that black dolman I gave her not three months ago—you remember that dolman trimmed with black lace that I was rather fond of? I bought it—oh, it must be at least ten years ago—for my uncle’s funeral. It was trimmed with two bands of crêpe, one about four inches deep, and the other three inches, or perhaps two-and-three-quarters; very stylish it looked, too. Then I had the crêpe taken off and some black silk put on it—very good ottoman silk it was—that had originally been part of a black silk dress belonging to my sister. Next I had it covered with fancy net with velvet appliqué for a change—not that I liked it, or would have thought of having it done had I known what it was going to cost. But they do take you in so at those town shops; why, I could have got a new dolman for what it cost to cover that one! And then it lasted no time, used to catch in everything, so I had next to no wear out of that.
“I had it taken off, and the dolman thoroughly turned—every bit; and the dressmaker put on some fringe, a sort of wavy fringe; but I had to have it taken off, because that Gladys Price, when she came home for a holiday, had on a silk coat trimmed with fringe exactly like it, so there again I got taken in, as you might say.
“After that, I put my brown fur trimming on it, but for the winter only; and then for the summer I put on some deep black lace. I hadn’t had that lace on more than six months when I gave her the dolman. (I remember quite well sitting up late that night to pick the lace all off it.) Altogether, you can’t say I had so much wear out of any of it, and it was a constant expense. And yet, would you credit it, when I asked her what she had done with it, she said it had ‘wored out’! Why, I could have had it another ten years in good use, without its being ‘wored out.’ She’s a thriftless woman, that’s what she is. Still, I suppose it isn’t for us to judge her.”
We had to hurry on. I wanted to call on Miss Bretherton, who had sprained her ankle and needed commiseration. We found her in that state of suppressed and bottled-up-in-a-Christian-manner irritation that is common to very active women who are suddenly tied to a chair with some of their machinery out of gear; and, like most other women under similar conditions, she was trying to do ten times as much as she ought to have done, in order to prove to everybody that there was nothing the matter with her.
“You’ll just have to come into the midst of all this muddle,” she sighed, “for I can’t move myself into another room.”
“Sorting things for a jumble sale?” I inquired, looking at sundry piles of garments strewn about her.
“It almost amounts to that; though I really started out to get a few things together for a woman in the village who seems to be rather needy at the moment, that Jane Price. Her brother-in-law has just died—you remember Zebadiah Price, who lived at Briar Bush Cottage before they took a little place at Penglyn? We lost sight of them after they left here—it’s such a cross-country place they’ve gone to. I’m rather surprised they haven’t asked the Rector to bury him, he thought a good deal of Zebadiah; but all the same I’m glad they haven’t, for it takes you the best part of a day to cover that fifteen miles, and he has a slight cold. It seems she’s going to the funeral to-morrow.
“I admit there are several women in the parish I should feel a greater pleasure in helping—she does try my patience at times—but I felt I ought to do what I can in this particular case, as she doesn’t seem able to get any black from anyone else. Everybody says they gave theirs to the last jumble sale, she tells me, though I didn’t see any of it!