“Really, Miss Lushington,” began Parker, “I have done all I could—”
“Your conduct is not justifiable,” interrupted Priscilla. “I am very sorry indeed, Mabel; you mean kindly, of course, but I cannot wear clothes that don’t belong to me. I would rather not have dinner, if you will excuse me. My head aches, and I should much prefer to go to bed.”
“Oh dear,” said Mabel, “what a fuss you make about nothing, Priscie! Why, the dress is all part of the play. Let us think of you as acting in a play while you are with Aunt Henrietta and me; if you take a part in it, you must dress to fit the part. Oh, put on your lovely grey silk—you will look perfectly sweet in it—and come down to dinner with Annie and me. See Annie; she is in her white muslin already, and looks a perfect darling.”
“I feel a perfect darling,” said Annie. “I love this dress. I adore fine clothes. I am not one little bit ashamed to wear it.”
“Well,” said Priscilla, “Annie can please herself; but if I have to wear other people’s clothes, or clothes that don’t belong to me and that I have no right whatever to accept, I shall have to give up this trip and go back to England to-morrow.”
“Oh dear!” said Mabel, “you are queer, Priscilla. I do wish—I do wish I could persuade you.”
“It is all useless, miss,” said Parker in an offended tone; “I have spoken to Miss Weir until I am tired, and she won’t see reason.—You see, miss,” continued Parker, “the dresses are bought, and if you don’t wear them they will be wasted. I understand proper pride, miss, but this does not seem to me reasonable, miss. You will forgive my saying so?”
“Yes, Parker, of course I forgive you,” said Priscilla; “but all the same,” she added, “I shall go on this expedition in my own clothes or I don’t go at all.”
“You will be a fright,” said Annie.
“I would rather be a fright and myself; I should not feel myself in other people’s clothes.”