It was but the work of a moment to abandon ourselves completely to the feminine joy of our undertaking. Once within the toils of the Frenchwoman, escape appeared the height of ingratitude.
Mariposilla was soon radiant with delight as she tried on, for the first time in her uneventful life, costume after costume, commenting innocently upon the merits of one, while she deplored the deficiencies of another. After many trials, she had almost decided to take a pretty, rich blue serge, enlivened with touches of gay plaided silk, when the wily saleswoman brought out unexpectedly from a perfumed box a beautiful dress of cream cloth.
The child held her breath as she begged to try on the wonderful frock with the jaunty, sleeveless jacket, worn over a soft, creamy silk waist, the entire costume daintily brightened with bands, embroidered in gold thread. When she stood arrayed before the long mirror, regarding affectionately the stylish puff of the sleeves, and the circular, girlish effect of the throat, outlined by a band of gold, her simple vanity forgot concealment.
"Mademoiselle is most bewitching!" the Frenchwoman exclaimed. "She can not find one other costume so becoming. Her complexion looks most perfect! So harmonious! So delightful!"
In the mirror I could see reflected Mariposilla's extravagant joy. She had never in her life before been so beautifully dressed. Instinctively she snatched from her head her hat, discovering with quick perception that its somber shabbiness detracted from the general effect of the dainty costume. Standing for a moment unconscious of the audience, she threw a kiss to her own lovely image. Realizing what she had done, she flushed deeper and turned away.
"Mademoiselle is an artist! She perceives that she looks most beautiful," the Frenchwoman pursued. "She must certainly buy the costume. There is about it an air. It has just arrived, and will soon be sold. Mademoiselle must not hesitate."
For the first time the thought of the price presented a possible drawback to the inexperienced child. She turned from the mirror, touchingly in earnest in her inquiry. "How much does it cost?" she asked.
When the saleswoman named the amount the disappointed girl began heroically to remove the jacket. As she laid it aside she turned instinctively to me for sympathy.
"I cannot pay the price," she whispered. "It would take all that I have, and there would be nothing left to buy the shawl for my mother, or the slippers for my grandmother, or the doll for Marjorie."
A moment longer she hesitated, the mist of disappointment gleaming in her eyes. Then, with a quiet resolution that was wonderful, she commanded the saleswoman to remove the coveted temptation, announcing her determination to take the blue dress which she had previously fancied.