One day, about three weeks after the commencement of my school, I was surprised by a call from Dell Thompson, who, after conversing awhile, very familiarly, astonished me with an invitation to visit her the next afternoon. “She was going to have a few of her friends from the village,” she said, “Dr. Clayton with the rest.”
Here she looked at me and I looked out of the window, while she continued, “You’ll come, I suppose.”
I replied that I would, after which she departed, leaving me in a perfect state of bewilderment. I invited to Captain Thompson’s, with Dell’s fashionable friends! What could it mean, and what should I wear? This last was by far the more important question; for I knew that the people of the village were noted for their fine dress, and I, of course, could not compete with them in point of elegance. Dr. Clayton too, I had heard, was rather fastidious in his ideas of a lady’s dress, and my heart sank within me as I mentally enumerated the articles of my scanty wardrobe, finding therein nothing which I deemed fit for the occasion, save a white dotted muslin, which was now lying soiled and wrinkled at the bottom of my trunk. It is true, I had a blue and white lawn, neatly made and quite becoming, but my heart was set upon the muslin, and so when Mrs. Ross, with whom I was that week boarding, offered to wash and iron it, I accepted the proffered kindness.
The next morning, when I passed Captain Thompson’s, I observed a great commotion in and around the house. The blinds were thrown back, and through the parlor windows I caught sight of brooms and dusters, while at intervals during the day, the scholars brought me tidings of cake, jellies, and ice-cream, said to be in progress. At precisely four o’clock I dismissed school, and taking a short cut across the fields, soon reached my boarding-place, where I found Mrs. Ross bending over the ironing-table with a face flushed, and indicative of some anxiety.
“I never see nothin’ beat it,” she began, holding down her hot iron and thereby making a slightly yellow spot on the dress. “I never see nothin’ beat it, how this gown pesters me. It must be poor stuff, or somethin’,—but mebby it’ll look better on you,” she continued, as she gave it a finishing touch, and then held it up to view.
And, indeed, it was sorry looking enough; some places being wholly destitute of starch, while others were rough and stiff as a piece of buckram. Common sense told me to wear the blue, but I had heard Dr. Clayton say that nothing became a young girl so well as white, and so I determined to wear it. It would look better on me, I thought, and with all the eagerness of a child I commenced my toilet, discovering to my great dismay that I had neither shoes nor stockings fit to wear with a muslin dress. The week previous I had taken my best ones home, where I had purposely left them, not thinking it possible for me to need them. Here then was a dilemma, out of which Mrs. Ross at last helped me, by offering to lend the articles which I lacked; an offer which I gladly accepted. Her stockings were rather coarse, having been knit by herself, but they possessed the virtue of being white, and clean, and would have answered my purpose very well, had it not been for the slippers, which were far too long for me, and showed almost the whole of my foot. Besides that, I found it rather difficult keeping them on, until Mrs. Ross suggested the propriety of stuffing the toes with cotton! This done, I donned the muslin dress, which seemed to me much shorter than when I had last worn it, inasmuch as I had the painful consciousness of being all feet, whenever I glanced in that direction.
But Mrs. Ross said “I looked mighty crank,” at the same time fastening on my low-necked waist her glass breastpin, which she pronounced, “just the checker.” “You orto have some gloves to wear when you get there,” said she, as she saw me drawing on my brown ones, “and I b’lieve I’ve got the very thing,” she continued, bringing from the depths of the bureau-drawer a pair of white cotton mitts, fancifully embroidered on the back with yellow and blue. These she bade me “tuck in my bosom until I got there, and on no account to lose ’em, as she had ’em before she was married!”
Thus equipped, I started for Captain Thompson’s, reaching there just as the clock was striking five, and finding, to my surprise, that I was not only the first arrival, but that neither Mrs. Thompson nor Dell had yet commenced dressing! Fearing I had mistaken the day, I questioned the servant girl who answered my ring, and who assured me that I was right, while at the same time, she conducted me to the chamber above, where, in the long mirror, I obtained a full-length view of myself, feet and all! My first impulse was to laugh, my second to cry, and to the latter I finally yielded. No one came near me—I heard no one—saw no one, until in light flowing muslin, white silk hose, and the tiniest of all tiny French slippers, Dell Thompson sailed into the room, starting with well feigned surprise when she saw me, asking how long I had been there, and what was the matter.
Without considering what I was doing, I told her unreservedly about the shoes and stockings, pointing to my peacock feet as proof of what I said. With all her faults, there was enough of the woman about Dell to inspire her with a feeling of pity for me, and after forcing back the laugh she could not well help, she said kindly, “Your shoes are rather large, but I think, perhaps, I can remedy the difficulty.”
At the same time she started to leave the room. What new impulse came over her, I never knew; but sure am I that something changed her mind, for, when nearly at the door, she suddenly paused, saying; “I know, though, you can’t wear my slippers, so it’s of no use trying the experiment:” adding, as she saw how my countenance fell, “I wouldn’t mind it if I were you. Nobody’ll notice it, unless it is Dr. Clayton, who, I believe, admires small ankles and little feet; but you don’t care for him, he’s old enough to be your father, and, besides that, he thinks you perfect, any way.”