About this time, Mrs. Graham and Mrs. Bruce, with their families, received cards for a levée at the house of an acquaintance five miles distant. Mrs. Bruce, who had a close carriage, invited both the cousins to go; and, as Mr. Graham's carriage, when closed, would only accommodate himself and lady, the proposal was acceded to.
The prospect of a gay assembly revived Isabel's drooping spirits. Her rich evening dresses were brought out, and she stood before her mirror, and tied on first one wreath, and then another, and looked so beautiful in each that it was difficult to choose. Kitty, who stood by, went to consult Gertrude.
"Gertrude," said Kitty, "what shall I wear this evening? I've been trying to get Belle to tell me, but she never will hear what I ask her, when she's thinking about her own dress! She's dreadfully selfish."
"Who advises her?" asked Gertrude.
"Oh, nobody; she always decides for herself; but then she has so much taste, and I haven't the least in the world! So do tell me, Gertrude, what had I better wear to-night?"
"I'm the last person you should ask, Kitty; I never went to a fashionable party in my life."
"That doesn't make any difference. I'm sure if you did go, you'd look better than any of us; and I'm not afraid to trust to your opinion, for I never in my life saw you wear anything that didn't look genteel—even your gingham morning-gown has a sort of stylish air."
"Stop, stop, Kitty; you are going too far; you must keep within bounds if you want me to believe you."
"Well then," said Kitty, "to say nothing of yourself (for you're superior to flattery, Gertrude—somebody told me so)—who furnishes Miss Emily's wardrobe? Who selects her dresses?"
"I have done so lately, but——"