Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
said, looking much gratified, "and I knew you were when you bade her call you aunt. I imagine she had been a little troubled to decide just how she was to address you."
"Well, since I find she is not the sort one need feel ashamed of, I've no objection to her claiming relationship, though there is none at all in point of fact; but if she had proved the awkward, ungainly, uncouth girl I expected, I should have requested her to call me Mrs. Dinsmore," remarked that lady languidly. "I wonder if she has much shopping to do? I hope not, for I really do not feel equal to the exertion of assisting her."
"Driving about in a carriage and sitting in the stores; I should not think it need be so very fatiguing," remarked her husband.
"Of course not, Mr. Dinsmore; men never do see why anything should fatigue their wives," she retorted with some petulance.
"Then Miss Worth and I will have to manage it between us. You expect her to-day, do you not?"
"She was to come to-day; but of course she won't. People never do as they promise. The fact is she oughtn't to have gone at all, leaving me here alone with servants and children; so selfish and inconsiderate!"
"But, my dear, it would have been very hard for her to go back without having spent a short time with her family."
"And her pleasure is to be considered before my comfort, of course."
"Really, I had hoped your comfort had not been neglected," Mr. Dinsmore said, in a tone of some irritation, as he glanced from the richly attired figure in the easy chair, opposite his own, to the luxurious appointments of the room; "what more can you wish?"
The entrance of Mrs. Dinsmore's maid, bringing her bonnet and shawl, saved the lady the necessity of replying to the somewhat inconvenient query, and her husband turned to the morning paper.
Then Mildred came in.
Mrs. Dinsmore, standing before the pier glass, saw the girl's figure reflected there, and the latter could not help enjoying her start of surprise.
"What an elegant shawl!" she exclaimed, turning hastily about to take a better view, "real India! You needn't be ashamed to show yourself anywhere in that! Though your bonnet is quite out of date, as you warned me," she added by way of preventing too great elation from her praise of the shawl.
"No matter," interposed Mr. Dinsmore, throwing down his paper, "we'll soon set that right. The carriage is waiting. Are any of the children going?"
"Yes, Adelaide, Louise and Lora. Mammy and Fanny have taken the younger ones out."
The three little girls came in at the moment. They were gayly and expensively dressed, in the height of the fashion. They looked curiously at Mildred, then Louise, the second in age, a child of ten, whispered to her mother,
"What a fright of a bonnet, it's not in the style at all, and I don't want her along if she's going to wear that."
"Hush! it's no matter," returned the mother in the same low key, "she won't be seen in the carriage, and we'll drive directly to Mrs. Brown's and get her a handsome one."
"Oh! what a pretty shawl, cousin," exclaimed Adelaide, "real India, isn't it? Come on, mamma, and all of you," she added, hurrying into the hall, "it's time we were off."
"Adelaide always wants to direct the rest of us," complained Louise, "I wish, mamma, you'd make her know her place."
"Tut, tut! remember she's three years older than you. But if you children are going to quarrel, you must stay behind," said Mr. Dinsmore, standing back to let his wife and Mildred pass out first.
"No, no, papa, that won't do, because we're to be fitted with hats and shoes," laughed the youngest of the three, putting her hand into his, "besides, I didn't quarrel."
"That's true enough, Lora," he answered, leading her down the stairs, "and in fact, I believe no one did but Louise, who is apt to be the complainer."
The drive to the milliner's was so short that Mildred thought they might as well have walked. She would have preferred it as giving her a better opportunity to see the city; but no; in that case she would have had to mortify her friends by an exhibition of her unfashionable head-gear.
The next half hour was spent in turning over ribbons, flowers and feathers, discussing styles, and trying on bonnets.
At length one was found which pleased both Mrs. Dinsmore and Mildred, but the price asked seemed to the latter extravagant.
"Do you think I ought to go so high, Aunt?" she asked in an undertone. "Is it worth it?"
"I think the price reasonable, and the hat no finer than you ought to wear," returned Mrs. Dinsmore coldly.
Mildred, blushing, turned to the saleswoman, saying, "I will take it," and began counting out the money.
"Stay," said her aunt, "you will want a hat for travelling in."
A plainer and less expensive one was selected for that purpose, the handsome bonnet put on, the bill paid, and they returned to their carriage, Mildred feeling pleasantly conscious of her improved appearance, yet a trifle uneasy at the thought of how fast her money was melting away.
Their next visit was to a fashionable shoe store. Mrs. Dinsmore had the children and herself fitted with several pairs each, and by her advice, Mildred, too, bought slippers for the house, and heavy walking shoes.
"You must have, besides, a pair of gaiters to match each handsome dress you buy," Mrs. Dinsmore said to her as they re-entered the carriage.
That announcement filled Mildred with dismay. At this rate her purse would be emptied before the demands upon it were nearly satisfied. What was she to do? She had been eager to select her dresses, but now was thankful for the respite afforded her by Mrs. Dinsmore's declaration that she was too much fatigued for any more shopping, and that therefore they would return to their hotel.
"I'm going to lie down till it is time to dress for dinner, and would advise you to do the same," she said to Mildred as they re-entered their parlor, and our heroine retreated at once to her own room, glad of the opportunity to think over her perplexity in solitude, and ask guidance and help of her best Friend, who, as she rejoiced in knowing, was abundantly able and willing to help her in every time of need.
She cast her burden on Him, then threw herself on the bed, and being very weary with her long journey, soon fell asleep.
Two hours later she was roused by a knock at her door. She sprang up and opened it to find a porter there with an armful of brown paper parcels and a note for her.
"Is there not some mistake?" she asked in surprise.
"No, Miss: No. 95, and here's the name on the note and the bundles."
"Why yes, it is my name, sure enough!" she exclaimed. "Well, you may bring them in."
The man laid the packages down and departed, while Mildred, only waiting to close the door after him, tore open the note.
"My dear niece," so it ran, "you must please excuse the liberty I have taken in selecting your dresses for you. Your Aunt Wealthy put some money into my hands to be laid out for you. The letter containing her remittance and also one from Roselands which hurries us home, came to hand a few minutes after you and Mrs. Dinsmore had left the hotel. Miss Worth arrived while I was in the act of reading them, and with her assistance I ventured to do your shopping for you. The contents of the parcels sent with this are the result.
"Hoping they may suit your taste, I am your affectionate uncle, A. D."
For some minutes after the note had been hastily read and laid aside, Mildred's fingers were very busy with twine and wrapping paper, bringing to light beautiful and costly things, while her cheeks burned with excitement and her eyes danced with delight, or filled with tears of mingled pleasure and pain.
She could not fail to rejoice in such wealth of lovely things, yet it hurt her pride of independence that she must take them as gifts; and that from one who was scarcely related to her, for well she knew that Mr. Dinsmore must have paid a large proportion of the price from