An Old-Fashioned Girl

"You wore that thoroughly out, and it 's only fit for the rag-bag. Yes, it was very pretty and becoming, I remember, but its day is over."

Fanny let the dress lie in her lap a minute as she absently picked at the fringe, smiling to herself over the happy time when she wore it last and Sydney said she only needed cowslips in her lap to look like spring. Presently she folded it up and put it away with a sigh, but it never went into the rag-bag, and my sentimental readers can understand what saved it.

"The ball dresses had better be put nicely away till next year," began Polly, coming to a rainbow colored heap.

"My day is over, I shall never use them again. Do what you like with them," said Fan calmly.

"Did you ever sell your cast-off finery, as many ladies do?" asked Polly.

"Never; I don't like the fashion. I give it away, or let Maud have it for tableaux."

"I wonder if you would mind my telling you something Belle proposed?"

"If it 's an offer to buy my clothes, I should mind," answered Fanny, sharply.

"Then I won't," and Polly retired behind a cloud of arsenic-green gauze, which made her look as if she had the cholera.

"If she wanted to buy that horrid new 'gooseberry-colored gown,' as Tom calls it, I 'd let her have it cheap," put in Maud, who was of a practical turn.

"Does she want it, Polly?" asked Fan, whose curiosity got the better of her pride.

"Well, she merely asked me if I thought you 'd be mortally offended, if she offered to take it off your hands, as you 'd never worn it. You don't like it, and in another season it will be all out of fashion," said Polly from her verdant retreat.

"What did you say?"

"I saw she meant it kindly, so I said I 'd ask. Now between ourselves, Fan, the price of that dress would give you all you 'll want for your spring fixings, that 's one consideration; then here 's another, which may have some weight with you," added Polly slyly. "Trix told Belle she was going to ask you for the dress, as you would n't care to wear it now. That made Belle fire up, and say it was a mean thing to do without offering some return for a costly thing like that; and then Belle said, in her blunt way, 'I 'll give Fan all she paid for it, and more, too, if it will be any help to her. I don't care for the dress, but I 'd like to slip a little money into her pocket, for I know she needs it and is too good to ask dear Mr. Shaw for anything she can get on without.' "

"Did she say that? I 'll give her the dress, and not take a penny for it," cried Fan, flushing up with mingled anger toward Trix and gratitude to Belle.

"That won't suit her; you let me manage it, and don't feel any shame or anxiety about it.

You did many a kind and generous thing for Belle when you had the power, and you liked to do it; now let her pay her debts, and have the same pleasure."

"If she looks at it in that way, it makes a difference. Perhaps I 'd better the money would be an immense help only I don't quite like to take it."

"Kings and queens sell their jewels when times are hard or they get turned off their thrones, and no one thinks it anything amiss, so why need you? It 's just a little transaction between two friends who exchange things they don't want for things which they do, and I 'd do it if I were you."

"We 'll see about it," said Fan, privately resolving to take Polly's advice.

"If I had lots of things like Fan, I 'd have an auction and get all I could for them. Why don't you?" asked Maud, beginning on her third bonnet.

"We will," said Polly, and mounting a chair, she put up, bid in, and knocked down Fan's entire wardrobe to an imaginary group of friends, with such droll imitations of each one that the room rang with laughter.

"That 's enough nonsense; now we 'll return to business," said Polly, descending breathless but satisfied with the effect of her fun.

"These white muslins and pretty silks will keep for years, so I should lay them by till they are needed. It will save buying, and you can go to your stock any time and make over what you want. That 's the way Mother does; we 've always had things sent us from richer friends, and whatever was n't proper for us to wear at the time, Mother put away to be used when we needed it. Such funny bundles as we used to have sometimes, odd shoes, bonnets without crowns, stockings without heels or toes, and old finery of all sorts. We used to rush when a bundle came, and sit round while Mother opened it. The boys always made fun of the things, though they were as grateful, really, as any of us.

Will made a verse one day which we thought pretty well for a little chap: 'To poor country folks Who have n't any clothes, Rich folks, to relieve them, Send old lace gowns and satin bows.'"

"I think that Will is going to be as nice a poet as Mr. Shakespeare," remarked Maud in a tone of serious conviction.

"He is already a Milton; but I don't believe he will ever be anything but a poet in name,"

said Polly, working away while she talked.