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My dress is only suitable, she repeated. Now, your dress, Eileen, is not suitable; nor is yours, Marjorie. To wear what is not suitable is the height of vulgarity.
Oh, do listen to her, said Marjorie, bursting into a hearty laugh. She is trying to scare us with those old bogy words, as if we minded. Think what it all means, Lettie, before you condemn us so severely. Mothers money is safe in my purse instead of on my person, and the difference between third and first class means a considerable addition also to my nice, heavy little purse. Who knows in what class we are coming up to town? Who cares to know? Mother is certain not to meet us at Kings Cross, and old Fowler will not see what class we alight from.
I am glad Aunt Helen has secured Fowler as her coachman, said Letitia. But, all the same, she added hastily, you both do look disgracefully shabby.
Well, Lettie, said Marjorie, I dont feel shabby, which is the main thing. What can be the matter with this serviceable dress? It is very strong and wont tear, and is the sort which does not crumple much.
It is all over grease, replied Letitia; spots of grease here, there, and everywhere. And, oh, your gloves there is absolutely a hole in the thumb of the one on your left hand. It is too disgraceful!
My gloves suit my character, replied Marjorie.
She looked at her sister; they both sat back in their seats and indulged in hearty girlish laughter. They were very like one another; the same dark, handsome eyes beamed out of each face, the same good arched brows, the same hair, thick and straight, very dark in color, but cropped to within an inch of their respective heads. They had clear, good complexions. Plenty of color brightened each pair of healthy cheeks their lips were beautifully formed and they had snow-white pearly teeth. And yet these two girls, partly because of their dress, were not looked at twice during that journey, whereas Letitia was the cynosure of many admiring eyes.
CHAPTER III THE TORN DRESS
How are you, Fowler? I am so glad to see you again, she cried. She held out her hand to the old coachman as she spoke.
I am quite well, I thank you, miss, he replied. He could not help smiling into the beaming dark eyes, and could not help thinking, notwithstanding a certain amount of chagrin, how nice it was to have Miss Marjorie back from school.
Eileen and I have knitted some baby socks for the last addition to your family, Fowler, continued Marjorie. Well come round and see Mrs. Fowler and the bairns to-morrow. How old is the last baby? and is it dark or fair?
Its six weeks old, miss, and very dark; but the wife isnt as strong as she ought to be.
Fowler colored all over his face
as he spoke. There was a porter standing near, listening to this conversation.
Perhaps, young ladies, said the footman, coming to the rescue, you wouldnt mind getting into the carriage, for the horses are that fresh Fowler can scarcely keep em standing much longer.
But its quite serious about his wife not being strong, said Eileen in a meditative voice. Now, if she were to take extract of malt or Fellowes Syrup
Oh, do get into the carriage, cried Letitia. Really, Eileen, you will be one of the most remarkable women of your day if you keep up your present fads. Cant you see how all those porters are enjoying the scene; and as to poor wretched Fowler, if you think he enjoys talking about his latest baby and the medicines his wife is to take, at Kings Cross Station, you are vastly mistaken. For goodness sake, get in.
As Letitia spoke she gave her energetic cousin a push. Eileen scrambled into the carriage almost headforemost, treading on her dress, and tearing a piece of braid as she did so. Marjorie followed suit, and Letitia entered last in a dainty and pretty manner. The footman shut the door and got on the box beside the coachman. Poor Fowlers ears were still red from the questions which Eileen had plied him with.
Bless her eart, he exclaimed to the footman, she dont know that its rather awkward to talk about the wife and bairns at a place like Kings Cross; but shes the best-natured young lady that ever walked. I knew her when she was a little tot.
All the same, you looked like a fool when she questioned you, replied Hopkins; and I doubt much if the missus will allow her young ladies to go a-visiting you in Fox Buildings.
Well, all I can say is this, replied the coachman, if Miss Eileen and Miss Marjorie are like what they used to be when they was young, I dont think the missus will be able to prevent them having their own way.
He whipped up his horses as he spoke, and a few minutes later the girls had reached home.
Mrs. Chetwynd was standing in the hall to welcome them.
My darlings, here you are at last, she cried. Oh, good gracious, Eileen, take care where you are going. See that great piece of braid trailing in front of your dress; my dear child, you will be on your nose.
Oh, never mind, mother, said Eileen. Im quite accustomed to this sort of thing. Marjorie, have you a penknife? Ill cut it off.