CHAPTER I.
“Oh, Lucy, is that you? I was just wishing for you,” exclaimed Emily Sutherland to her sister, Mrs. Coolidge. “We are busy discussing our dresses for the Fancy Ball. What character do you mean to take? Have you decided on your dress?”
“No, I have not, Emily.”
“Well, it’s high time to begin to think about it. Every milliner and mantua-maker in town will be full of work soon. I told Madame Dudevant yesterday she must consider herself engaged to make my dress by the 22d. You had better bespeak her, too, or you will find yourself too late if you put it off.”
“I shall wear something so simple it’s not worth while having it made by her,” replied Mrs. Coolidge. “I shall go as the ‘White Lady,’ or—”
“Not the ‘White Lady;’ for Heaven’s sake,” interrupted Emily, “that’s so hackneyed. Every body who can muster an old book-muslin, and a few yards of tulle, goes as the ‘White Lady.’ ”
“Well, a novice, or a Druid priestess,” continued Mrs. Coolidge.
“That’s just as bad,” pursued her sister impatiently. “No, no, you and Tom must go in character together; you as Titania, and he as Bully Bottom. You are so light, and slight, and fair, you will look Titania very well; and Tom will make a grand Bully—so full of fun and humor. You would contrast beautifully. You must hang upon his arm, and ‘stick musk roses in his sleek smooth head, and pinch his large, fair ears,’ for it’ll hardly do to ‘kiss’ them, and call him ‘your gentle joy.’ I am sure you could do that to the life.”
Mrs. Coolidge smiled, for the idea caught her fancy; but then she looked graver as she said,
“But those would be expensive dresses, Emily. I merely meant to wear something that would entitle me to an entrance. If the invitations did not say ‘costume de rigueur,’ I should not think of a fancy dress at all.”