I bought the dress the 7th day of November early in the forenoon, the next day after my pardner consented to go, and give 65 cents a yard for it, double wedth. I thought I could get it done on time, dressmakers are drove a good deal. But I felt that a dressmaker could commence a dress in November and get it done the follerin’ July, without no great strain bein’ put onto her; and I am fur from bein’ the one to put strains onto wimmen, and hurry ’em beyend their strength. But I felt Almily had time to make it on honor and with good buttonholes.
“Well,” she sez, the first thing after she had unrolled the alpacky, and held it up to the light to see if it was firm—sez she:
“I s’pose you are goin’ to have it made with a long train, and low neck and short sleeves, and the waist all girted down to a taper?”
I wuz agast at the idee, and to think Alminy should broach it to me, and I give her a piece of my mind that must have lasted her for days and days. It wuz a long piece, and firm as iron. But she is a woman who likes to have the last word and carry out her own idees, and she insisted that nobody was allowed in Saratoga—that they wuz outlawed, and laughed at if they didn’t have trains and low necks, and little mites of waists no bigger than pipe-stems.
Sez I, “Alminy Hagidone, do you s’pose that I, a woman of my age, and a member of the meetin’ house, am a goin’ to wear a low-necked dress?”
“Why not?,” sez she, “it is all the fashion and wimmen as old agin as you be wear ’em.”
Well, sez I, “It is a shame and a disgrace if they do, to say nothin’ of the wickedness of it. Who do you s’pose wants to see their old skin and bones? It haint nothin’ pretty anyway. And as fer the waists bein’ all girted up and drawed in, that is nothin’ but crushed bones and flesh and vitals, that is just crowdin’ down your insides into a state o’ disease and deformity, torturin’ your heart down so’s the blood can’t circulate, and your lungs so’s you can’t breathe, it is nothin’ but slow murder anyway, and if I ever take it into my head to kill myself, Alminy Hagidone, I haint a goin’ to do it in a way of perfect torture and torment to me, I’d ruther be drownded.”
She quailed, and I sez, “I am one that is goin’ to take good long breaths to the very last.” She see I wuz like iron aginst the idee of bein’ drawed in, and tapered, and she desisted. I s’pose I did look skairful. But she seemed still to cling to the idee of low necks and trains, and she sez sort a rebukingly:
“You ortn’t to go to Saratoga if you haint willin’ to do as the rest do. I spose,” sez she dreamily, “the streets are full of wimmen a walkin’ up and down with long trains a hangin’ down and sweepin’ the streets, and ev’ry one on ’em with low necks and short sleeves, and all on ’em a flirting with some man”
“Truly,” sez I, “if that is so, that is why the idee come to me. I am needed there. I have a high mission to perform about. But I don’t believe it is so.”