In a few days, preparations were commenced for moving Rose to Glenwood, and in the excitement of getting ready, she in a measure forgot the tallow candles and patchwork bedquilt, the thoughts of which had so much shocked her at first.
"Put in my embroidered merino morning gown," said she to Jenny, who was packing her trunk, "and the blue cashmere one faced with white satin; and don't forget my best cambric skirt, the one with so much work on it, for when George Moreland comes to Glenwood I shall want to look as well as possible; and then, too, I like to see the country folks open their mouths, and stare at city fashions.'
"What makes you think George will come to Glenwood?" asked Jenny, as she packed away dresses her sister would never wear.
"I know, and that's enough," answered Rose; "and now, before you forget it, put in my leghorn flat, for if I stay long, I shall want it; and see how nicely you can fold the dress I wore at Mrs. Russell's party!"
"Why, Rose, what can you possibly want of that?" asked Jenny, and Rose replied, "Oh, I want to show it to grandma, just to hear her groan over our extravagance, and predict that we'll yet come to ruin!"
Jenny thought that if Rose could have seen her father that morning, when the bill for the dress and its costly trimmings was presented, she would have wished it removed for ever from her sight. Early in the winter Mr. Lincoln had seen that all such matters were settled, and of this bill, more recently made, he knew nothing.
"I can't pay it now," said he promptly to the boy who brought it. "Tell Mr. Holton I will see him in a day or two."
The boy took the paper with an insolent grin, for he had heard the fast circulating rumor, "that one of the big bugs was about to smash up;" and now, eager to confirm the report, he ran swiftly back to his employer, who muttered, "Just as I expected. I'll draw on him for what I lent him, and that'll tell the story. My daughters can't afford to wear such things, and I'm not going to furnish money for his."
Of all this Rose did not dream, for in her estimation there was no end to her father's wealth, and the possibility of his failing had never entered her mind. Henry indeed had once hinted it to her on the occasion of her asking him "how he could fancy Ella Campbell enough to marry her."
"I'm not marrying her, but her money" was his prompt answer; "and I assure you, young lady, we are more in need of that article than you imagine."