"Mamma! how pretty that is!" exclaimed her daughter; "and that ashes of roses is lovely!"
"Fine," said Mrs. Busby; "very fine. No sparing of money. Well made. Your mother cannot have felt herself in straits when she made such purchases as these, Rotha."
Rotha"s heart gave a bound, but she shut her lips and was silent. Some instinct within her was stronger than even the impulse to justify her mother. What did it matter, what her aunt thought?
"These are all summer dresses," Mrs. Busby went on. "They are of no use at this season. Where are your warm clothes?"
"I have none," said Rotha, with sad unwillingness. "This is the best I have on."
"That?" exclaimed Mrs. Busby; and there was a pause. "Nothing better than that, my dear?"
"The others are worse. They are all worn out."
A heavy step was heard coming up the stair at this moment. It reached the landing place.
"Mr. Busby--" cried the voice of his wife, a little uplifted, "don"t come in here--I am engaged."
"Very well, my dear," came answer in a husky, rough voice, and the step pa.s.sed on.
"The first thing is a school dress," Mrs. Busby proceeded. "Antoinette, fetch that purple poplin of yours, that you wore last winter, and let us see if that would not do, for a while at least, till something can be made."
Nothing that fits her can fit me, thought Rotha; but with some self- command she kept her thoughts to herself. Antoinette brought the dress in question and held it up, chuckling.
"It"s about six inches too short, I should say, and wouldn"t meet round the waist by three at least."
"Try it on, Rotha."
Very unwillingly Rotha did as she was told. Mrs. Busby pulled and twitched and stroked the dress here and there.
"It is a little too short. Could be let out."
"Then the marks of the gathers would shew, mamma."
"That could be hidden by a basque."
"There isn"t much stuff left to make a basque. Miss Hubbell cut it all up for the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g."
"It could be made to do for a few days. I am anxious that Rotha should lose no time in beginning school. See, it is November now."
All this was extremely distasteful to the subject of it. She knew right well that her cousin"s dress could never be made to look as if it belonged to her, unless it were wholly taken to pieces and put together again; neither was the stuff of the dress very clean, and the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs had the forlorn, jaded look of a thing which has been worn to death. The notion of appearing in it revolted her unbearably.
"Aunt Serena," she said, "I would just as lief wear my old dress, if you don"t mind. It would do as well as this, and be no trouble."
"Well--" said Mrs. Busby; "it would take some time, certainly, to fit Antoinette"s to you; perhaps that is the best way; and it is only for a day or two; it wouldn"t matter much. Well, then you may take these things away, Rotha, and put them by."
"Where?" said Rotha. "In my trunk?"
"Yes, for the present That will do."
Rotha carried her muslins up stairs again, and had some ado not to sit down and cry. But she would not, and fought the weakness successfully down, appearing before her aunt again in a few minutes with an imperturbable exterior. Which she was able to maintain about ten minutes.
Antoinette was dressing for dinner; dressing in front of her mother"s fire; making herself rather striking in a blue silk, over which her long curling fair hair tumbled as over a pretty foil. Mrs. Busby also was putting herself in order. Rotha looked on. Presently the dinner bell rang.
"I"ll send you up your dinner, Rotha," Mrs. Busby said, turning to her niece. "Till we get some gowns made for you, you must keep in hiding.
I"ll send it up to you here, hot and nice."
Rotha said not one word, but two flames shot into her cheeks, and from her dark eyes flared two such lightnings, that Mrs. Busby absolutely shrank back, and did not meet those eyes again while she remained in the room. But in that one moment aunt and niece had taken their position towards each other, and what is more, recognized it.
"I shall have my hands full with that girl," Mrs. Busby muttered as she went down stairs. "Did you see how she looked at me?"
"I didn"t know she could look so," replied Antoinette. "Isn"t she a regular spitfire?"
"I shall know how to manage her," Mrs. Busby said, with her mouth set.
"She is not at all like her mother."
Rotha, left in the dressing room, sat down and laid her head on her arms on the table. Wrath and indignation were boiling within her. The girl dimly felt more than her reason could as yet grasp; somewhat sinister which ran through all her aunt"s manner towards her and had undoubtedly called forth this last regulation. What did it mean? So she could go to school in her old dress and be seen by a hundred strange eyes, but might not sit at the table with her aunt"s family and take her dinner in their company! And this was the very dress in which she had gone to the Park with Mr. Digby more than once. _He_ had not minded it. And here there was n.o.body that had not seen it already, except Mr. Busby.
Poor Rotha"s heart, when once a pa.s.sion of displeasure seized it, was like the seething pot in Ezekiel"s vision. She was helpless to stay the outpour of anger and pride and grief and contempt and mortification, every one of which in turn came uppermost and took forms of utterance in her imagination. She had a firm determination to follow Mr. Digby"s teaching and example; but for the present she was alone, and the luxury of pa.s.sion might storm as it would. Upon this state of things came the dinner, borne by the hands of Lesbia, who was a very sable serving maid; otherwise very sharp. She set the tray on the table. Rotha lifted a white face and fiery eyes, and glared at it and at her. Gladly would she have sent it all down again; but she was hungry, and the tray steamed a pleasant savour towards her.
"Thank you," said Rotha, with the courtesy she had learned of her friend.
"Would you like anything else?" the girl asked with an observing look.
"Nothing else, thank you."
"Why aint miss down stairs with the rest?"
"I couldn"t go down to-day. That will do, thank you."
Lesbia withdrew, and Rotha mustered her viands. A gla.s.s of water and a piece of bread, very nicely arranged; a plate with hot potatoes, turnips mashed, beets, and three small shrimps fried.
Rotha cleared the board, and found the fish very small. By and by came up Lesbia with a piece of apple pie. She took the effect of the empty dishes.
"Did miss have enough?"
"It will do very well, thank you," said Rotha, attacking the piece of pie, which was also small.
"Didn"t you want a bit of the mutton?"
"Mutton!" exclaimed Rotha, and again an angry colour shewed itself in her cheeks.
"Roast mutton and jelly and sweet potatoes. You hadn"t only fish, had ye?
Don"t ye like yaller potatoes? Car"lina potatoes?"
"Yes, I like them," said Rotha indifferently.
N. B. She had eaten them but a few times in her life, and thought them a prime delicacy.