"She's dreadful extravagant for a church member," said Mrs. Snelling, with a sigh, as she turned herself slowly round before the little looking-glass. She was having a lining fitted by the village dressmaker, Miss Prime, and a merino dress she had worn two years was partly ripped up on the chair by the window. It was the only dressmaking she had on hand for the season. It was a hard winter, and, what with the sickness of the children, and Mr. Snelling losing so much time by the frost, their means were unusually limited. No wonder that she thought of the ease and plenty of the rich manufacturer's household with a feeling of envy. She did not know it, though. She was a plain, good-hearted person naturally, struggling on to do her duty through the discouragement of ill health, ailing children, and very narrow means; but she could not help thinking Mrs. Hubbard was getting worldly and extravagant as, year by year, her household arrangements and personal expenses increased.
Only the day before, at meeting, she could not fix her attention upon the sermon for looking at the velvet Talma worn for the first time by her old friend and still kind neighbor, Mrs. Hubbard. They were members of the same church, of which Mr. Hubbard was the most liberal supporter. He gave according to his means, and, at the same time, desired his wife and family to dress and live as became his altered position and prospects.
"Time was when she had to work hard enough," continued Miss Prime, pinching in a side seam in the endeavor to produce the hour-glass shape, orthodox when she "learned her trade." "I remember when they first set up housekeeping, and she had to do her own work as well as other people, and her own sewing, too. Now I don't believe she takes a needle in her hand from morning till night, while you and I, Miss Snelling, don't git many play spells."
The leaven of uncharitableness worked on in Mrs. Snelling's heart.
"I'm afraid there isn't much spiritual growth, Miss Prime. The cares of this world choke the seed." Poor woman! she thought it was only an interest in her neighbor's best good that prompted such a constant review of her conduct. "People that have their hearts set on dress and high living can't have much time for better things."
"That's what I think. How do you like them bask waists, Miss Snelling? I hear they're all the fashion in New York. Miss Dunn said she'd try an' git me a pattern when she went down in the spring. I wouldn't ask Miss Hubbard to lend me hers to look at for nothing in the world. How am I goin' to get out new backs, Miss Snelling?"
"There's the cape, you see."
"Why, so there is! I never calculated the cape. I was studyin' an' contrivin' all the while you was to breakfast. Says I, 'Miss Snelling'll have to have them backs pieced, and then everybody in town'll know it's been made over.'"
As if everybody in Mrs. Snelling's community would not have known and noticed, under any circumstances, that her brown merino of two winters ago had been turned and made up again for her best dress. She had set her heart, early in the fall, on a new style of plaids, for sale at Brown & Chapins; but the doctor's bill was so much larger than she expected, she was obliged to give it up. The sacrifice had cost her many hours of calculation, alternate resolves, and reconsiderations. Every purchase that she made, indeed, was of necessity turned over and over in her mind for weeks.
Miss Prime went on with her fitting by the window, and Mrs. Snelling with her task of washing up the breakfast-dishes, "jogging the cradle" with one foot, every now and then, as her youngest child stirred in his morning nap.