But Stella was learning to have her own way, when she knew she was in the right. She said no more but went to her room and dressed herself as her aunt had directed.
Etty, meantime, was fretting and fuming over her toilet as usual, because she could not make up her mind what to wear. She would not wear the gingham—that was all about it. The muslin was pretty enough for anything, but Etty had forgotten to sew on certain hooks and eyes without which the sash could not be worn, and the dress without the sash could not be thought of.
Finally she pitched upon the most unsuitable thing of all—a black barege, her very best summer dress, which she had not yet worn. She was just fastening it, when her aunt called to her from the stairs: "Be sure you put on your thickest boots, Etty!"
"Those thick leather boots with this thin dress—how they will look!" said Etty. "I am sure my cloth boots will be thick enough this dry day. It has not rained for a week."
Etty had lost so much time in making up her mind that she was not ready when the carriage came to the door.
"Come, children, we have no time to lose!" called out Mr. Grey. "Are you ready?"
"I am ready," said Stella, entering Etty's room. "Shall I help you, Etty? But what made you put on that dress?"
"Because I don't want to look like a charity school-girl, as you do!" was Etty's snappish reply. "Every one will think you are a servant!"
"No, indeed! I am not half fine enough for a servant," said Stella, shrewdly. "But come, Etty; do hurry. What hat are you going to wear? Let me get it for you."
"Do go along and leave me alone!" said Etty, crossly. "You are trying to hinder me on purpose to get me found fault with."