“Only this, that I shall hurry through my work as quickly as possible, and go away now instead of waiting until my sister returns. I am delighted, Mildred! it’s just as nice as it can be. I have had a letter from Mrs Faucit, too. She asks you to go at once, but I am not sure if we can manage that.” She hesitated, looking at her pupil with uncertain eyes. “She is so pretty, bless her!” she was saying to herself, “that she always manages to look well; but she is shabby! I should think her mother would wish her to have one or two new dresses before she goes. I must speak about it. You see, Mildred,” she said aloud, “I am thinking about your clothes. You will probably be asked to a great many tennis and garden parties while you are at The Deanery, and you will have to be more particular than at school. Do you think you can go with what you have, or shall we get something new? We might call at the dressmaker’s to-morrow.”
Mildred shook her head.
“Oh, no! I must go as I am, Mardie, or stay at school. I wouldn’t ask Mother for money just now, not for the world. There will be doctors’ bills, and a dozen extra expenses to meet, and she has a hard enough time as it is. I can buy some little things—shoes, and gloves, and a sailor hat—with the money I have: nearly twenty-five shillings altogether; but it is no use thinking about a dress. I shall do very well. I have the blue crepe, and the brown, and the dyed green, and this good old serge to wear with blouses. If I see people examining my clothes, I shall shake my hair all over my back, and stare as hard as I can, so that they will be obliged to turn away... If we go into town to-morrow, I could go on Wednesday, couldn’t I?”
“Say Friday, dear; it will give us a little more time.” For, to herself, Miss Margaret was saying: “I will engage that clever little sewing-woman to come in for a couple of days and look over her dresses. She is quite right to consider her mother’s purse, but she will feel her own shortcomings when she is among the Faucit’s friends. I must do all I can to make it easier for the child. There is one comfort, she is easy to dress.”
Mildred danced away to answer her friend’s letter in overflowing spirits. She had never before paid a visit on her own account, and it seemed delightfully grown-up to be going to a strange house by herself. A Deanery, too! There was something so imposing about the sound. One Deanery was worth a dozen ordinary, commonplace houses, just as Bertha was worth a hundred other friends. Dear, darling Bertha—this was her idea, of course! It took three sheets of note-paper to contain all Mildred’s expressions of delight.
The next day was set apart for the shopping expedition, an occasion calling for anxious consideration. At Miss Margaret’s suggestion Mildred drew out a list of the articles which she wished to purchase out of her twenty-five shillings of capital. It was neatly written on a sheet of note-paper, with descriptive notes attached to the various items, and red lines ruled between, so that it presented quite a superior appearance. The list ran as follows:—
New shoes (pretty ones this time,—not thick).
Slippers (with buckles).
Gloves (light and dark).
Ribbons.