Then came Katie Matheson to help with the new gowns. Shenac felt herself quite equal to these, but, as Shenac Dhu insisted, “Katie had been at M— within the year, and knew the fashions;” so Katie came for a day or two. Of this wish to follow the fashion, the mother was inclined to speak severely; for what had young folk with their bread to win to do with the fashions of the idle people of the world? But even the mother did not object to following them when she found the wide, useless sleeves, so much sought after by foolish young girls, giving place to the small coat-sleeves which had been considered the thing in her own and her mother’s youth. They were, as she said, far more sensible-like, and a saving besides. The additional width which Katie quietly appropriated to Shenac’s skirt would have been declared a piece of sinful extravagance, if the mother had known of it before Shenac was turning round, from one to another, to be admired with the new dress on. She did cry out at the length. Why the stocking could only just be seen above the shoe tied round the slender ankle! There was surely no call to waste good cloth by making the skirt so long. “Never mind,” said Katie: “Flora’s should be all the shorter;” and by that means little Flora was in the fashion too.
I daresay Shenac’s pleasure in her new dress might have awakened amusement, perhaps contempt, among young people to whom new dresses are not so rare a luxury. But never a young belle of them all could have the same right to take pleasure and pride in silk or satin as Shenac had to be proud of her simple shepherd’s plaid. She had shorn the wool, and spun and dyed it with her own hands. She had made it too, with Katie’s help; and never was pleasure more innocent or more unmixed than hers, as she stood challenging admiration for it from them all.
Indeed, both the dress and the wearer might have successfully challenged admiration from a larger and less interested circle than that—at least, so thought the new master, who came in with Hamish while the affair was in progress. He had seen prettier faces, and nicer dresses too, it is to be supposed; but he had certainly never seen anything prettier or nicer than Shenac’s innocent pride and delight in her own handiwork.
Shenac Dhu gave the whole a finishing touch as she drew round her cousin’s not very slender waist a black band fastened with a silver clasp—an heirloom in the family since the time that the Macivors used to wear the Highland garb among their native hills.
“Now walk away and let us see you,” said she, giving her a gentle push.
Shenac minced and swung her skirts as she moved, as little children do when they are playing “fine ladies.” Even her mother could not help laughing, it was so unlike the busy, anxious Shenac of the last few months.
“Is she not a vain creature?” said Shenac Dhu. “No wonder that you look at her that way, Hamish, lad.”
The eyes of Hamish shone with pride and pleasure as they followed his sister.
“Next year I’ll weave it myself,” said Shenac, coming back again. “You need not laugh, Shenac Dhu. You’ll see.”
“Yes, I daresay. And where will you get your loom?” And Shenac Dhu put up both hands and made-believe to cut her hair. Shenac Bhan shook her head at her.