“And does her plan work well?” asked one of the ladies, at length breaking in upon the monologue.
“Just wait, I am coming to it. She says that she had three nieces that came to the city to buy finery. They were very dressy women, and they wished to lay in a good supply. She told them her plan, but they hooted the thoughts of going into the street looking common, so they fixed themselves up, and went in their carriage, having made up their minds not to purchase at once, but to go every where first and get samples. Well, Mrs. Scrooge offered to assist them in gathering samples, but not a foot would she set in their carriage, but puts on her old things, and goes out after them, and sometimes into the very places where they were. When they all got back and compared samples, she showed the others that she could get many of the self-same things six or eight per cent. lower than they could. She says that she has crowed over them ever since. I’m sure I’m much obliged to her for giving me the hint, and I don’t think any one will catch me shopping again with a silk dress on, and a four-dollar collar, and a gold watch at my side. I shall wear my old winter bonnet that I traveled in, and my faded mousseline de laine dress, and then they’ll have to put their goods down to suit my appearance. The girls say if I do I may go alone, for they have no notion to look common, and while they are in the city they mean to put the best foot foremost. Easter Ann says we should always stand upon our dignity—she’s very dignified herself. As to Jane Louyza, she says it looks mean and matter-of-fact to be always counting the cost, and that if I’d let her, she would take every thing without asking the price, particularly when she is waited on by some of the spruce, handsome, fashionable young gentlemen that cut such a dash, showing off the goods to ladies. But they’ll learn better when they get older; indeed, Easter Ann is old enough now—she’s no chicken, though she don’t like me to tell her so, and I shouldn’t wonder if they’d learn to look after the main chance as well as their mother before them. If I hadn’t been uncommon keen in money matters their poor father wouldn’t have died worth his twenty thousand cash, beside farms and stock, leaving them to sit up like ladies, with their hands in their laps.”
Miss Jane Louisa was sitting close by, engaged in what she called a “desperate flirtation” with two astonished-looking young men, the only beaux in the room, whom she seemed determined to monopolize, one of them being my brother-in-law, George Allanby, a youth of eighteen. She discussed love and matrimony with much languishment of manner, and novelty of pronunciation, and criticised her favorite novels after the following fashion:
“Ain’t the ‘Bride of the Brier-field’ beautiful? Don’t tell me you have not read it!—dear me!—I was perfectly on thorns till I got it. Araminta is so sweet, I almost cried my eyes out when she died. Of course you’ve read the ‘Pirate of Point Peepin?’ Oh, how I do hate him! I declare I never see black whiskers on any of the gentlemen in the street that I a’n’t ready to scream, they put me so much in mind of Don Hildebrando.”
Intent upon conquest as she was, the loud accents of her mother sometimes disturbed the tenor of her softer themes, and she showed her apprehension that the old lady’s discourse might not be in unison with the general tone of the company, by occasionally interpolating, “Just listen to maw!—did you ever know any one so old-fashioned;” or, “maw will always talk so, but you city people will get used to her ways after a while;” or, “maw is so independent, she always says whatever comes into her head.”
I thought it time to interpose between the loquacity of Mrs. Dilberry and the politeness of her listeners, and placing myself beside her, I made inquiries in a low voice about our friend in common, Mrs. Conolly. But she was one of those people who are always best satisfied with a numerous auditory; and punching the shoulder of Mrs. Aylmere, while she pushed the knee of another lady, she re-commenced in a still higher key.
“I believe I didn’t tell you ladies how I happened to be in such good company. I brought a letter of introduction to Mrs. Allanby from one of her most particular friends, and that makes me feel quite at home with her, and almost as if she was a blood relation. You’ll really have to come to Tarry-town, Mrs. Allanby, to pay a visit to Mrs. Conolly. I’m sure you’ll never repent the expense of the journey, for she is settled very comfortably, and will introduce you to nobody but the very top of the town. Like my young people, she’s mighty particular about her associates. She is changed a good deal though, for looks—more, I dare say, than you have, Mrs. Allanby; but considering the wear and tear of married life, and the way she has to expose herself, for help is scarce in our section; not more so, perhaps, than might be expected, particularly when she is fixed up—which, to be sure, might be oftener, for she began to be careless in her dress almost as soon as she was married, and, though she has four children running about—troublesome, dirty little limbs, I can’t help saying—some of the wedding finery she brought out with her is quite good yet. She is a good deal more freckled, too, than she used to be, but that is no wonder, for I’ve seen her, many a time, out in the broiling sun in the garden cutting lettuce, without any thing on her head—she never was proud—except, indeed, a black bobinet cap; they are very much worn with us, as they save washing and are economical. And she has lost her two front teeth; no, I believe it is a front and an eye-tooth, and that, you know, always makes people look older. Her figure, though, looks genteeler than ever, for she is not so fat. The doctor says she is getting as poor as Job’s turkey. Did you never see the doctor, Mrs. Allanby? he is as thin as a weasel, himself, but a mighty money-making little man. I did a great deal to get him into business, and he now goes along swimmingly. He first bought the house they live in, and last year he put up a new kitchen, and this spring he bought a handsome sofa and marble-topped table for the parlors. I shouldn’t wonder if in a year or two he’d build an office, and have two parlors in his house, with folding-doors between them, as that is getting to be the fashion in Tarry-town. Some of us are pretty stylish.”
My friends, at length, began to withdraw, and I was at last left alone with the Dilberrys. The three repeaters struck eleven, and their mistresses exchanged whispers, and said something about getting back to their hotel.
“You rode, I presume?” said I.
“Not we, indeed,” returned Mrs. Dilberry; “I had enough of your hack-riding this morning. We did not know how to find the way here, so the landlord told us we had better take one of the hacks near the door. Well, we tried it, and, after we got back, though we hadn’t once got out, except to look at some balzarines and lawns at two or three stores, the impudent black fellow had the face to charge us a dollar. This evening we knew that we could find the place well enough, and we started as soon as we saw the gas lighted in some of the shops, for we had to stop by the way to buy me a cap—the girls having got a notion into their heads, I suppose from their novels, that things intended for evening dress ought always to be bought by candle-light. After trouble enough I found a cap—this I have on; and was asked a pretty price, two dollars, only I jewed the woman down to one and three-quarters. When we came to your street we took the omnibus, and were let out down here at the corner. We thought, that as you had invited young ladies, you would of course provide beaux to gallant them home.”