Following this a bevy of Tuttle's girl cousins came to call, and next Selina was asked to a box party given by Mrs. Gwinne Tuttle during the week of the spring opera. It meant a new dress and all but precipitated a breach between Mamma and Auntie.
Auntie hotly resented the invitation for some reason known to herself, whereas Mamma was determined that Selina should accept it.
"Certainly it means a new dress," she agreed promptly, when Auntie intimated that it did, "and I'm going straight down street now and get it. Write your note of acceptance to Mrs. Tuttle, Selina, and I'll mail it on my way."
She came back with an organdie! And French organdies such as this one she triumphantly unfolded, came by way of New Orleans and cost accordingly.
"While the ground of it's white," said Mamma, "and there's the faintest blush in the blossoms, the general effect is of the pale apple-green of the leaves. With Selina's pale hair, she ought to look more than well in the green."
Auntie set her lips.
"I didn't get a pattern-book this time; it seemed more a case for a real fashion-paper. I got sash ribbon and I got lace, and if you think best, we'll have a seamstress in for a day?"
"As you please," said Auntie grimly, "I prefer to have no say in the matter."
Whereupon Selina had run and thrown her arms around Auntie and cried, but then as Mamma said fretfully, Selina cried and Ann Eliza snapped at everything of late and there wasn't much reward trying to do things for either of them.
The dress was a triumph and even Mrs. Tuttle resplendent in her box at the opera said so, while Tuttle whispered—well, no matter what Tuttle whispered—the point being that not even the success of the dress quite removed the sting of hurt feelings behind it.