“Well, I declare!” she exclaimed. “I couldn’t think what made it hang like that! You’ve been taking it in on every seam to make it narrower.”
Emily pulled away, blushing.
“It was just horrid—all out of style, mama!” she cried. “I hate to—to look like a frump!”
Mrs. Carter straightened up from her consideration of the skirt.
“Where did you get those striped silk stockings, Emily Carter?”
Emily, backing toward the door, looked sullen.
“Dan gave me the money,” she answered shortly. “I wanted something like other girls.”
“I never saw such awful stockings in my life!” replied her mother. “Your legs look like barbers’ poles. You take them off, or I’ll have to tell your father.”
Emily grew tearful.
“I—I think you’re real mean, mama. I hate to be a frump!”