And so once more the
rolls of black silk were laid away in the great box that had already
held them a year; and for another twelve months the black alpacas, now
grown shabby indeed, were worn with all the pride of one whose garments
are beyond reproach.
When for the third time Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia returned to their
home with the oblong brown parcels there was no indecision about them;
there was only righteous scorn.
"And do you really think that Mis' Snow
expected us to allow that
silk to be cut up into those skimpy little skin-tight bags she called
skirts?" demanded Miss Priscilla, in a shaking voice. "Why, Amelia, we
couldn't ever make them over!"
"Of course we couldn't! And when skirts got bigger, what could we do?"
cried Miss Amelia. "Why, I'd rather never have a black silk dress than
to have one like that--that just couldn't be changed! We'll go on
wearing the gowns we have. It isn't as if everybody didn't know we had
these black silk dresses!"
When the fourth spring came the rolls of silk were not even taken from
their box except to be examined with tender care and replaced in the
enveloping paper. Miss Priscilla was not well. For weeks she had spent
most of her waking hours on the sitting-room couch, growing thiner,
weaker, and more hollow-eyed.
Pages:
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177