CHAPTER XIV
"It's what I wore, meself, white muslin, when I went to me first ball," Mrs. George Woods said, standing off to admire the frock of white muslin Sophie had on, and which she had just fastened up for her.
Sophie was admiring her reflection in Mrs. Woods' mirror, a square of glass which gave no more than her head and shoulders in brilliant sketchy outlines. She moved, trying to see more of herself and the new dress. Maggie Grant, who had helped with the making of the dress, was also gazing at her and at it admiringly.
When it was a question of Sophie having a dress for the ball at Warria, Mrs. Grant had spoken to Michael about it.
"Sophie's got to have a decent dress to go to the station, Michael," she said. "I'm not going to have people over there laughing at her, and she's had nothing but her mother's old dresses, cut down—for goodness knows how long."
"Will you get it?" Michael inquired anxiously.
Mrs. Grant nodded.
"Bessie Woods and I were thinking it might be pinspot muslin, with a bit of lace on it," she said. "We could get the stuff at Chassy Robb's and make it up between us."
"Right!" Michael replied, looking immensely relieved to have the difficulty disposed of. "Tell Chassy to put it on my book."