At supper-time Lizzie came home much excited. She had been in hot water

all the afternoon. The girls had said at lunch-time that the manager was

angry with Bessie, and had discharged her. She found her coat and hat, and

had brought them home. The pocketbook was missing. There was only fifteen

cents in it; but Lizzie was much disturbed, and so was the grandmother.

They had a quiet consultation in the kitchen; and, when the aunt came,

there was another whispered conversation among the three.

Elizabeth felt disapproval in the air. Aunt Nan came, and sat down beside

her, and talked very coldly about expenses and being dependent upon one's

relatives, and let her understand thoroughly that she could not sit around

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and do nothing; but Elizabeth answered by telling her how the manager had

been treating her. The aunt then gave her a dose of worldly wisdom, which

made the girl shrink into herself. It needed only Lizzie's loud-voiced

exhortations to add to her misery and make her feel ready to do anything.

Supper was a most unpleasant meal. At last the grandmother spoke up.

"Well, Bessie," she said firmly, "we've decided, all of us, that, if you

are going to be stubborn about this, something will have to be done; and I

think the best thing is for you to go to Mrs. Bailey and see what she'll

do for you. It's her business, anyway."

Elizabeth's cheeks were very red. She said nothing. She let them go on

with the arrangements. Lizzie went and got her best hat, and tried it on

Elizabeth to see how she would look, and produced a silk waist from her

store of garments, and a spring jacket. It wasn't very warm, it is true;

but Lizzie explained that the occasion demanded strenuous measures, and

the jacket was undoubtedly stylish, which was the main thing to be

considered. One could afford to be cold if one was stylish.

Lizzie was up early the next morning. She had agreed to put Elizabeth in

battle-array for her visit to Rittenhouse Square. Elizabeth submitted

meekly to her borrowed adornings. Her hair was brushed over her face, and

curled on a hot iron, and brushed backward in a perfect mat, and then

puffed out in a bigger pompadour than usual. The silk waist was put on

with Lizzie's best skirt, and she was adjured not to let that drag. Then

the best hat with the cheap pink plumes was set atop the elaborate

coiffure; the jacket was put on; and a pair of Lizzie's long silk gloves

were struggled into. They were a trite large when on, but to the hands

unaccustomed to gloves they were like being run into a mould.

Elizabeth stood it all until she was pronounced complete. Then she came

and stood in front of the cheap little glass, and surveyed herself. There

were blisters in the glass that twisted her head into a grotesque shape.

The hairpins stuck into her head. Lizzie had tied a spotted veil tight

over her nose and eyes. The collar of the silk waist was frayed, and cut

her neck. The skirt-band was too tight, and the gloves were torture.

Elizabeth turned slowly, and went down-stairs, past the admiring aunt and

grandmother, who exclaimed at the girl's beauty, now that she was attired

to their mind, and encouraged her by saying they were sure her grandmother

would want to do something for so pretty a girl.




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