Isabel was a little surprised at her coolness, but was keen enough to see that she did not mean to be ungrateful.
"I thought perhaps you'd like to advise about dress," she said. "The boxes are very brilliant, but you'll look well in anything. You won't need a bonnet, your hair is so pretty, and that little grey dress will do, with a little change."
"You know I'm a farmer's daughter," Rose explained; "I can't afford new dresses in order to go to the opera."
"I understand, my dear. I have my own limitations in that way. I keep one or two nice gowns and the rest of the time I wear a uniform. I told Mrs. Harvey you were poor like myself, and that we'd need to be the background for her, and she said she'd trust me."
What Mrs. Harvey had said was this: "My dear Isabel, you've got judgment, and if you say the girl's worth knowing I want to know her. And if you say the girl will be presentable I'd like to have her come. The boys are both in New York, anyway, and we've got three unoccupied seats."
"Now you come over to dinner with me Saturday; come at five. I want you to help me dress. Doctor will be over, and we'll have a nice time before the carriage comes."
Rose was much more elated than she cared to show. Once as she sat in the gallery of the theatre and looked at the boxes she had shut her teeth in a vow: "I'll sit there where you do, one of these days!" and now it had come in a few weeks instead of years—like a fairy gift. She told Mary nothing about her invitation for several days. She dreaded her outcry, which was inescapable.
"Oh! isn't that fine! How you do get ahead—what will you wear?"
"I haven't a bewildering choice," Rose said. "I thought I'd wear my grey dress."
"Oh, this is a wonderful chance for you! Can't you afford a new dress?"