Beatrix looked puzzled.
‘My love, how absent-minded you are!’ said Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘Of course you can’t judge of the general appearance till the flounces are on, and it all comes together. But you can tell me what you think of the colour and the style of trimming.’
‘Oh, you mean the dress,’ answered Beatrix, with cruel indifference. ‘I think that silver-gray is a pretty colour.’
‘It’s the new shade,’ said Mrs. Dulcimer. ‘You are sure it’s the new shade, are you not, Miss Killick?’ she asked, turning to the dressmaker.
‘Yes, ma’am, it’s quite the new shade,’ answered Miss Killick solemnly.
Beatrix seated herself by the fire, and idly watched the blaze, while Mrs. Dulcimer went on working. There was not much sustained conversation. Everybody except Beatrix was thinking of the dress. Miss Killick and Rebecca had their mouths full of pins, and dropped a few whenever they spoke, like the girl in the fairy tale. After half an hour or so Beatrix rose to go, but Mrs. Dulcimer entreated her to stop till the dress was tried on.
‘It will be ready in a quarter of an hour, won’t it, Miss Killick?’ she inquired.
They were all sitting close together now, Rebecca sewing the body to the skirt, the dressmaker sewing on the final flounce.
‘I don’t suppose we shall be much longer, ma’am,’ said Miss Killick.
‘And at four we are going to have a refreshing cup of tea,’ said the Vicar’s wife, ‘so you really must stop, Beatrix.’