Cassy was as gay as a lark, and sang and chattered by the hour, while she helped her mother run up the breadths of an extraordinary changeable silk gown, which had been cut over from one that had been her grandmother's. This was to be Cassy's school-dress. Think what richness—silk for every-day wear!
"We can't afford to buy anything new," argued Mrs. Deane. Still, it was a solemn moment when the key snapped in the lock of the cedar chest, and that changeable silk was taken from the place where it had lain these thirty years, wrapped in a pillow-case and two towels.
Cassy fairly gasped when the scissors cut into its gorgeousness. She gasped even more when Mrs. Deane also brought from the chest six yards of an ancient bottle-green ribbon to trim the robe withal. To be sure, the ribbon drooped despondingly under the chastening influence of a hot flat-iron, but, "We'll put it on in bands," said Mrs. Deane. "Bows would really be too dressy for you, my daughter."
Stitch, stitch, stitch, Cassy's fingers flew. And all the time she sewed, her busy brain was weaving the most rapturous visions of the new life that was to be hers. In her dreams she made polite little courtesies to Marion Van Dysk, whom she imagined as standing on the threshold of the "Boarding and Day School" to welcome her. To be sure she only knew Marion by sight, but as Marion knew her in the same way, she thought they would instantly become friends. Then Lillie Downs would entreat her to join in all the games, for Lillie Downs was already an acquaintance: at least she had said, "How do you do?" one day when she saw Cassy on the sidewalk. Cassy was sure there were a dozen girls who would stretch out their hands at once, and perhaps she could even think of a secret to tell some of them, and then they would, of course, be friends forever.
"And even if they wear common clothes, I sha'n't be proud in this magnificent dress," thought Cassy. For the changeable silk was finished now, and Cassy stole twenty times a day into the guest-chamber that she might behold its splendor as it lay on the bed.
It did seem as if August would never end. But at last September appeared, and the morning of all mornings dawned.
Cassy rose bright and early. Her mother dressed her with her own hands, and tied up her hair with a narrow pink ribbon.
"Pink goes so well with the green on your gown," said dear, guileless Mrs. Deane; "and, Cassy, here are some new shoes that father bought for you yesterday. He'll go himself with you to the door, so you sha'n't feel strange like."
"Oh, but they'll be so glad to see me I sha'n't feel strange!" cried Cassy, and down the street she skipped.
But for some reason no one was at the door to welcome her. Cassy crept into the big school-room. It was full of girls, and there was Marion Van Dysk among the rest. A wee smile came to Cassy's face. She was about to say "good-morning," but Marion only glanced carelessly at her and turned away.