Mildred Keith - Complete 7 Book Collection. Finley Martha
There were materials for three beautiful evening dresses, a sage colored merino, fine and soft, an all wool delaine—royal purple with an embroidered sprig; also three silks—a black, a dark brown, and a silver grey; each rich and heavy enough to almost stand alone, and there was a box of kid gloves; one or two pairs to match each dress, the rest white for evening wear. Nor had suitable trimmings for the dresses been forgotten: they were there in beautiful variety—ribbons, buttons, heavy silk fringes; nothing had been overlooked.
Mildred seemed to herself to be in a dream; she could hardly believe that such riches were really hers.
But there came a rap at the door and opening she found Mr. Dinsmore standing there.
"May I come in?" he asked with grave cheerfulness.
She stepped back silently, her heart too full for speech, and passing in he closed the door.
"My dear child, you will excuse me?" he began, but throwing her arms round his neck she burst into tears.
"O, uncle, you are so kind! but it is too much," she sobbed, hiding her face on his shoulder.
"Nonsense! the merest trifle!" he said, stroking her hair. "But if you don't like them—"
"Like them!" she cried. "They're just lovely! every one of them, but—"
"No, no! no buts," he said gayly; "if they suit your taste it's all right. The gaiters that Mrs. Dinsmore says are necessary to match the dresses, can be made nearer home and we'll have two days, Friday and Saturday for sight seeing. This is Thursday, and early Monday morning we leave for Roselands."
"But O, uncle, you shouldn't have spent so much money on me," began Mildred.
"I, child? your Aunt Wealthy you mean. Didn't you read my note?"
"Yes sir; and I know I must thank her for a part, but only a part of these beautiful things."
"Dear me, how very wise we are," he said jocosely and chucking her playfully under the chin; "yet perhaps not quite so wise as we think. Now if you want to do me a favor, just call to mind our talk in the cars the other day, and say no more about this.
"Mrs. Dinsmore and Miss Worth know nothing but that I had money of yours in my hands and have used it in doing your shopping for you; and it is decidedly my wish that they neither know nor suspect anything further. Will you oblige me by being quiet about it?"
"I would do anything I possibly could to oblige you, Uncle Dinsmore," she answered, looking into his eyes with hers full of grateful tears.
"Ah, that's my good girl," he said, "Now dry your eyes and we'll go down to dinner. It is to be served for the family in our own parlor, and is probably on the table now."
Dinner was on the table, and as they entered the family were in the act of taking their places about it.
Miss Worth the governess was with them. She was an intelligent looking, but rather plain featured woman of perhaps thirty-five. Her manners were unobtrusive, she was very quiet and reserved, seemingly self-absorbed.
Mildred's first impressions were not too favorable. The thought in the girl's mind was, "she's a disagreeable old maid, and I'm sure I shall never like her."
Yet the face, though slightly sad and careworn when at rest, would by many have been preferred to Mrs. Dinsmore's in its faded beauty, and listless or fretful and annoyed expression.
The bright, fresh young faces of the children pleased Mildred better than either. There were six of them in all; Arthur, Walter, and Enna were all younger than the three little girls whose acquaintance she had made in the morning—the last named a mere baby. They were pretty children and not ill-behaved considering that they had been used to an almost unlimited amount of petting and indulgence.
"Miss Worth has been telling me about your dresses, Mildred," remarked Mrs. Dinsmore, "I hope you will like them; I should think from her description, they must be very handsome."
"They are, very," Mildred answered, with a vivid blush. "I don't think I could possibly have been better suited." And turning to Miss Worth, she thanked her warmly for the trouble she had taken in her behalf.
"It was no trouble, and you are heartily welcome, Miss Keith," returned the governess, a smile lighting up her features into positive comeliness.
Mr. Dinsmore changed the subject, by a proposal to take his wife and Mildred to some place of amusement for the evening.
"How thoughtless you are, my dear," said Mrs. Dinsmore, "I am sure Mildred must be too much fatigued by her journey to think of going out."
"I doubt it," he returned, laughing. "What do you say, Milly?"
"That I don't think I am," she answered brightly, "a two hours' nap this afternoon having refreshed me wonderfully."
"Then we'll go," he said, "there's an opportunity to hear some fine music, and I don't want to miss it. You will go with us, Mrs. Dinsmore?"
"No," she said coldly, "I do not feel equal to the exertion."
She was not an invalid, but had barely escaped becoming such through extreme aversion to exercise of body or mind.
Mr. Dinsmore then extended his invitation to Miss Worth, overruled her objection, that she feared the children would require her attention, by saying that the servants would give them all the care they needed, and insisted upon her acceptance, unless she, too, must plead fatigue as an excuse for declining.
Before the governess had time to open her lips in reply, Mrs. Dinsmore suddenly announced that she had changed her mind; she would go, and really she could not feel easy about the children, unless Miss Worth were there to see that they were properly attended to.
It was a disappointment to the latter, who seldom enjoyed such a treat, but she quietly acquiesced, sighing inwardly, but giving no outward sign.
"Shall we walk or ride?" queried Mr. Dinsmore, looking at Mildred. "The distance is about four squares."
"Oh, let us walk," she was about to exclaim, feeling an eager desire for the exercise, and to look at the buildings and brightly lighted windows; but Mrs. Dinsmore decided this question also with an emphatic,
"We will take a carriage of course. What can you be thinking of, Mr. Dinsmore?"
They had left the table and Mildred was considering how she should excuse herself, that she might retire to her own room and finish a letter to her mother, when Mrs. Dinsmore said, "You must show me your pretty things now, Mildred. There'll be plenty of time before we have to dress for the concert."
"Dress!" echoed Mildred in dismay, "really Aunt, I have nothing more suitable to wear than this I have on," glancing down at the blue black silk she had been wearing all that day.
"What matter? that's neat fitting and handsome enough for any occasion," interrupted Mr. Dinsmore.
"It will do very well, if you don't throw back your shawl," remarked his wife, glancing askance at the really neat, ladylike and pretty dress.
"The place will be crowded and warm," said Mr. Dinsmore, "and if you find your shawl burdensome, Mildred, you are to throw it back and be comfortable." His wife gave him an indignant glance.
"She can take a fan," she said shortly, "I'll lend her one that I'll not be ashamed to see her carry."
Mildred was glad she could say she had a pretty fan of her own, and would not need to borrow, and with it said she would doubtless be able to refrain from throwing back her shawl in a way to exhibit the unfashionable make of her dress.
Mrs. Dinsmore graciously condescended to approve of the purchases made by her husband and the governess, saying she really thought she hardly could have done better herself, and it was an immense relief to know that the thing was done without any worry or responsibility coming upon her, she was so ill able to bear such things.
On hearing which, our heroine felt unspeakably thankful that her assistance had not been asked.
Mildred enjoyed the concert