“I do believe there is something, after all, in what you say,” was Nan’s response; but Dulce was not so easily won over.
“Do you mean to say that we shall put up a brass plate on the door, with ‘Challoner, dressmaker,’ on it?” she observed, indignantly. A red glow mounted to Nan’s forehead; and even Phillis looked disconcerted.
“I never thought of that: well, perhaps not. We might advertise at the Library, or put cards in the shops. I do not think mother would ever cross the threshold if she saw a brass plate.”
“No, no; I could not bear that,” said Nan, faintly. A dim vision of Dick standing at the gate, ruefully contemplating their name—her name—in juxtaposition with “dressmaker,” crossed her mind directly.
“But we should have to carry parcels, and stand in people’s halls, and perhaps fit Mrs. Squails, the grocer’s wife,—that fat old thing, you know. How would you like to make a dress for Mrs. Squails, Phil?” asked Dulce, with the malevolent desire of making Phillis as uncomfortable as possible; but Phillis, who had rallied from her momentary discomfiture, was not to be again worsted.
“Dulce, you talk like a child; you are really a very silly little thing. Do you think any work can degrade us or that we shall not be as much gentlewomen at Hadleigh as we are here?” 60
“But the parcels?” persisted Dulce.
“I do not intend to carry any,” was the imperturbable reply, “Dorothy will do that; or we will hire a boy. As for waiting in halls, I don’t think any one will ask me to do that, as I should desire to be shown into a room at once; and as for Mrs. Squails, if the poor old woman honors me with her custom, I will turn her out a gown that shall be the envy of Hadleigh.”
Dulce did not answer this, but the droop of her lip was piteous; it melted Phillis at once.
“Oh, do cheer up, you silly girl!” she said, with a coaxing face. “What is the good of making ourselves more miserable than we need? If you prefer the two little rooms with mother, say so; and Nan and I will look out for old ladies at once.”