Mellicent’s face clouded for a moment, but brightened again as she caught sight of her reflection in the swing glass. Crumples or no crumples, there was no denying that blue was a becoming colour. The plump, rosy cheeks dimpled with satisfaction, and the flaxen head was twisted to and fro to survey herself in every possible position.
“Is my hair right at the back? How does the bow look? I haven’t burst, have I? I thought I heard something crack in the cab. Do you think I will do?”
“Put on your slippers, and I’ll tell you. Anyone would look a fright in evening dress and snow-shoes.”
Peggy’s answer was given with a severity which sent Mellicent waddling across the room to turn out the contents of the bag which lay on the couch, but the next moment came a squeal of consternation, and there she stood in the attitude of a tragedy queen, with staring eyes, parted lips, and two shabby black slippers grasped in either hand.
“M–m–m–my old ones!” she gasped in horror-stricken accents. “B–b–b–brought them by mistake!” It was some moments before her companions fully grasped the situation, for the new slippers had been black too, and of much the same make as those now exhibited. Mrs Asplin had had many yearnings over white shoes and stockings, all silk and satin, and tinkling diamond buckles like those which had been displayed in Peggy’s dress-box. Why should not her darlings have dainty possessions like other girls? It went to her heart to think what an improvement these two articles would make in the simple costumes; then she remembered her husband’s delicate health, his exhaustion at the end of the day, and the painful effort with which he nerved himself to fresh exertions, and felt a bigger pang at the thought of wasting money so hardly earned. As her custom was on such occasions, she put the whole matter before the girls, talking to them as friends, and asking their help in her decision.
“You see, darlings,” she said, “I want to do my very best for you, and if it would be a real disappointment not to have these things, I’ll manage it somehow, for once in a way. But it’s a question whether you would have another chance of wearing them, and it seems a great deal of money to spend for just one evening, when poor dear father—”
“Oh, mother, no, don’t think of it! Black ones will do perfectly well. What can it matter what sort of shoes and stockings we wear? It won’t make the least difference in our enjoyment,” said Esther the sensible; but Mellicent was by no means of this opinion.
“I don’t know about that! I love white legs!” she sighed dolefully. “All my life long it has been my ambition to have white legs. Silk ones with little bits of lace let in down the front, like Peggy’s. They’re so beautiful! It doesn’t seem a bit like a party to wear black stockings; only of course I know I must, for I’d hate to waste father’s money. When I grow up I shall marry a rich man, and have everything I want. It’s disgusting to be poor... Will they be nice black slippers, mother, with buckles on them?”
“Yes, dearie. Beauties! Great big buckles!” said Mrs Asplin lovingly; and a few days later a box had come down from London, and the slippers had been chosen out of a selection of “leading novelties”; worn with care and reverence the previous evening, “to take off the stiffness,” and then after all—oh, the awfulness of it!—had been replaced by an old pair, in the bustle of departure.
The three girls stared at one another in consternation. Here was a catastrophe to happen just at the last moment, when everyone was so happy and well satisfied! The dismay on the chubby face was so pitiful that neither of Mellicent’s companions could find it in her heart to speak a word of reproof. They rather set to work to propose different ways out of the difficulty.