“Oh, no, Archie; of course not. I only put on my new dress just to see how it would fit; and then I thought you might like to see it. It is the one uncle gave me; and is it not beautifully made? I am sure Mrs. Cheyne’s dresses never fit better. You and Grace may say what you like about the Challoners, but if they can make dresses like this, it would be tempting Providence not to use such a talent, and just because they were too fine ladies to work.”
“I do believe you are right, Mattie,” returned Archie, in a low voice. “Turn round and let me look at you, girl. Do you mean—that she—that they made that?”
Mattie nodded as she slowly pivoted on one foot, and then revolved like the figures one used to see on old-fashioned barrel-organs; then, as she stood still, she panted out the words,—
“Is it not just lovely, Archie?” for in all the thirty years of her unassuming life Mattie had never had such a dress, so no wonder her head was a little turned.
“Yes, indeed; I like it excessively,” was Archie’s comment; and then he added, with the delicious frankness common to brothers, “It makes you look quite a different person, Mattie: you are almost nice-looking to-night.”
“Oh, thank you, dear!” cried poor Mattie, quite moved by this compliment; for if Archie thought her almost nice-looking he must be pleased with her. Indeed, she even ventured to raise herself on tiptoe and kiss him in gratitude, which was taking a great liberty; only Archie bore it for once.
“She really looked very well, poor little woman!” thought Archie, when Mattie had at last exhausted her raptures and bidden him good-night. “She would not be half so bad-looking if some one would take her in hand and dress her properly. The women must be right, after all, and there is a power in dress. Those girls do nothing by halves,” he continued, walking up and down the room. “I would not have believed they had made it, if Mattie had not told me. ‘Rash and designing,’ indeed! just because they are not like other girls,—because they are more natural, more industrious, more courageous, more religious in fact.” And then the young clergyman softly quoted to himself the words of the wise old king, words that Nan and her sisters had ever loved and sought to practise:
“Whatsoever thy hands findeth to do, do it with thy might.”