“Then it will be more becoming than ever. Oh, here's the pretty violet silk. That will make a lovely suit,” cried Polly, going on with the review.
“Don't see how two draggled skirts and a stained waist can be transformed into a whole rig,” said Fan, sitting on the bed, with her garments strewn about her in various attitudes of limp despondency.
“Well, ma'am, my plan is this,” began Polly, imitating Mrs. O'Grady's important tone, and bad grammar: “Gores is out, and plaits is in; therefore, as the top of this skirt is quite fresh, we will take off the ruffles, turn it upside down, and leave it plain. The upper skirt will be made scanter, and finished with a frill; then the waist can be refreshed with the best parts of these wide flounces, and out of those new bits we will concoct a hat. The black lace Maud has just taken off the green one will do to edge the violet, and with your nice silk mantilla you are complete, don't you see?”
“I don't quite see it yet, but I have firm faith that I shall in time, and consider my calling costume finished,” said Fanny, getting more and more interested as she saw her condemned wardrobe coming out fresh again under Polly's magic knack.
“There are two; then that piqu, is all right, if you cut the tail off the jacket and change the trimming a bit. The muslins only need mending and doing up to look as well as ever; you ought not to put them away torn and soiled, my child. The two black silks will be good stand-bys for years. If I were you, I'd have a couple of neat, pretty prints for home-wear, and then I don't see why you are n't fixed well enough for our short season.”
“Can't I do anything with this barege? It's one of my favorite dresses, and I hate to give it up.”
“You wore that thoroughly out, and it's only fit for the rag-bag. Yes, it was very pretty and becoming, I remember, but its day is over.”
Fanny let the dress lie in her lap a minute as she absently picked at the fringe, smiling to herself over the happy time when she wore it last and Sydney said she only needed cowslips in her lap to look like spring. Presently she folded it up and put it away with a sigh, but it never went into the rag-bag, and my sentimental readers can understand what saved it.
“The ball dresses had better be put nicely away till next year,” began Polly, coming to a rainbow colored heap.
“My day is over, I shall never use them again. Do what you like with them,” said Fan calmly.