"You see, dear, I--I am not well enough now to wear it," she said
faintly to her sister one day when they had been talking about the black
silk gowns; "but you--" Miss Amelia had stopped her with a shocked
gesture of the hand.
"Priscilla--as if I could!" she sobbed. And there the matter had ended.
* * * * *
The townspeople were grieved, but not surprised, when they learned that
Miss Amelia was fast following her sister into a decline. It was what
they had expected of the Heath twins, they said, and they reminded one
another of the story of the strained eyes and the glasses. Then came the
day when the little dressmaker's rooms were littered from end to end
with black silk scraps.
"It's for Miss Priscilla and Miss Amelia,'" said Mrs. Snow, with tears
in her eyes, in answer to the questions that were asked.
"It's their black silk gowns, you know."
"But I thought they were ill--almost dying!" gasped the questioner.
The little dressmaker nodded her head. Then she smiled, even while she
brushed her eyes with her fingers.
"They are--but they're happy. They're even happy in this!" touching the
dress in her lap. "They've been forty years buying it, and four making
it up. Never until now could they decide to use it; never until now
could they be sure they wouldn't want to--to make it--over.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178