“What do you say, girls,” said Mrs. Dilberry; “that might do well enough for you and me, Mrs. Allanby,” giving me a wink, “but I don’t know how these two would like to hide their light under a bushel. Girls like to give the beaux a chance to look at them wherever they can, and I must say it’s natural enough. As to the trouble of dressing, why we’ve got nothing else to do here, and people that have the wherewith may as well put it on their backs.”
The young ladies did not give their sentiments, but exchanged glances and whispered together, and Miss Esther Ann formally proposed going up for their bonnets. Reiterating their hopes of being able to catch an omnibus, to save them the fatigue of a long, warm walk, they took leave, not forgetting to volunteer abundant assurances that they would call every day and make themselves quite at home with me.
As soon as they were gone I wrote a note to George, instilling a little worldly wisdom by means of advising him to go late to the theatre, when the front seats would be filled, and to place his companions where they would attract as little notice as possible.
The next morning whilst I was at breakfast, the young man came in.
“Well, George, how did the opera come off?” asked I.
“You mean the by-play, in which I was concerned,” said he, passing his hand over his face. “Don’t talk to me about chivalry toward all woman-kind again! But I’ll let you have it from the beginning. In the first place, I took your advice, and went to the W—— Hotel rather late. I was shown into what, I presume, was the ladies’ saloon, for there were a couple of dozens of female faces, of all sorts, turned toward me, as if I were something anxiously expected, and very queer when I had come. I understood it all in a minute, though, for right in the middle of the room, parading between two tall glasses, in which they could see themselves back and front, were the Dilberrys, the objects of all the nodding and tittering I had observed before I came in for my share of attention. The old lady espied me first, and puffing out, loud enough to be heard all over the room, ‘here he comes girls—here comes our beau at last,’ she ran forward as if she were going to seize hold of me, the other two following with their arms, grace-like, twined about each other. ‘La, Mr. Allanby, you have served us a pretty trick—keeping us waiting so long!’ exclaimed Miss Esther Ann, ‘I shouldn’t wonder if we were not to get seats at all.’ ‘I’m ready to pout at you, I wanted so to see every body come in,’ said the other. ‘We were almost ready to give you up, and had all these ladies comforting us,’ said Mrs. Dilberry; ‘here we’ve been, dressed from top to toe, for an hour or more, Jane Louyza walking and standing about, in broad daylight, with her arms and neck bare, for fear we shouldn’t be ready in time, for we thought that as you had made up your mind to lay out your money, you’d like us to get as much for it as possible.’ I escorted them to the carriage, assuring them they would be in time enough.”
“But what about their dress, George?” said I.
“You know I never can make any thing out of describing a lady’s dress. Mrs. Dilberry looked very choked-up, and melting and greasy, and had on that abominable frizzly cap that struck us all so last night; and Miss Esther Ann had on a white frock with old dark kid-gloves, and three brown cockades stuck on top of her head that made her look full six feet high; but Jane Louyza, as they call her, was the beauty! Her dress was one of those stiff, thin ones, that stand out like hogsheads, and are nearly as hard to bend. Such a crushing and pushing as there was to get it into the carriage, and down between the seats! Her neck was—I can’t tell you how bare, and her arms and hands ditto, only that on the latter she had little tight mitts, that looked like the skin tatooed. She had a wreath of artificial blue and purple roses on her head, and a quantity of ribbon flying in tags from each shoulder and from her back and front. But such arms and neck—so red and beefy!”
“And where did you get seats?”
“In one of the side boxes, three benches back—the very place I could have wished—but, as my luck would have it, a lady in the front row took sick, and her party left the theatre with her. Before I could have thought of such a thing, my fair charges pushed forward into the three vacant places, beckoning me to follow, and calling me by name loudly enough to be heard half over the house. Of course it drew all the eyes in the neighborhood upon them, and I observed that the Hallowells, and the Sewards, and the Wilkinses were in the next box; Joe Nicols was with them, and had the impudence to lean over and ask me, ‘Who the mischief have you here, George? country cousins, hey?’—and there they sat chattering and laughing at full voice, evidently greatly flattered by being so much stared at.”