An Old-fashioned Girl by Louisa M. Alcott (fun to read .txt) 📖

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Fanny brought out her "rags" and was astonished to see how many she had, for chair, sofa, bed, and bureau were covered, and still Maud, who was burrowing in the closets, kept crying, "Here 's another."

"There 's a discouraging heap of rubbish for you!" said Fan, as she added a faded muslin to the last pile.

"Now, to me your 'rubbish' looks very encouraging, because there is good material there, and not much worn-out finery, that 's my detestation, for you can't do anything with it. Let me see, five bonnets. Put the winter ones away till autumn, rip up the summer ones, and out of three old ones we 'll get a pretty new one, if my eyes don't deceive me."

"I 'll rip, and then do let me see you make a bonnet, it must be so interesting," said Maud, whipping out her scissors and eagerly beginning to reduce a shabby little bonnet to its original elements. "Now the dresses," continued Polly, who had rapidly sorted out the piles.

"Will you have the goodness to look at this?" said Fan, holding up a gray street suit faded past cure.

Polly whisked it wrong side out, and showing the clean, bright fabric, said, with a triumphant wave, "Behold your new suit; fresh trimming and less of it will finish you off as smart as ever."

"I never wore a turned dress in my life; do you suppose people will know it?" said Fan doubtfully.

"What if they do? It won't hurt you. Not one in a hundred will ever think anything about your dress, except that it is pretty. I 've worn turned and dyed gowns all my days, and it don't seem to have alienated my friends, or injured my constitution."

"That it has n't; I 'm a goose, Polly, and I 'll get over the feeling that it 's sort of disgraceful to be poor and have to economize. We 'll turn the gray, and I 'll wear it bravely."

"Then it will be more becoming than ever. Oh, here 's the pretty violet silk. That will make a lovely suit," cried Polly, going on with the review.

"Don't see how two draggled skirts and a stained waist can be transformed into a whole rig," said Fan, sitting on the bed, with her garments strewn about her in various attitudes of limp despondency.

"Well, ma'am, my plan is this," began Polly, imitating Mrs. O'Grady's important tone, and bad grammar: "Gores is out, and plaits is in; therefore, as the top of this skirt is quite fresh, we will take off the ruffles, turn it upside down, and leave it plain. The upper skirt will be made scanter, and finished with a frill; then the waist can be refreshed with the best parts of these wide flounces, and out of those new bits we will concoct a hat. The black lace Maud has just taken off the green one will do to edge the violet, and with your nice silk mantilla you are complete, don't you see?"

"I don't quite see it yet, but I have firm faith that I shall in time, and consider my calling costume finished," said Fanny, getting more and more interested as she saw her condemned wardrobe coming out fresh again under Polly's magic knack.

"There are two; then that piqu, is all right, if you cut the tail off the jacket and change the trimming a bit. The muslins only need mending and doing up to look as well as ever; you ought not to put them away torn and soiled, my child. The two black silks will be good stand-bys for years. If I were you, I 'd have a couple of neat, pretty prints for home-wear, and then I don't see why you are n't fixed well enough for our short season."

"Can't I do anything with this barege? It 's one of my favorite dresses, and I hate to give it up."

"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.

"Did n't your mother ever let you wear the nice things that came?" asked Maud.

"No, she thought it was n't the thing for a poor minister's girls to go flourishing about in second-hand finery, so she did what I 'm doing now, put away what would be useful and proper for us by and by, and let us play with the shabby, silk bonnets and dirty, flounced gowns. Such fun as we used to have up in our big garret! I remember one day we 'd been playing have a ball, and were all rigged up, even the boys. Some new neighbors came to call, and expressed a wish to see us, having been told that we were pattern children. Mother called us, but we had paraded out into the garden, after our ball, and were having a concert, as we sat about on the cabbages for green satin seats, so we did n't hear the call, and just as the company was going, a great noise arrested them on the doorstep, and round the corner of the house rattled Ned in full costume, wheeling Kitty in a barrow, while Jimmy, Will, and I ran screaming after, looking like Bedlamites; for we were playing that Lady Fitz Perkins had fainted, and was being borne home senseless in a cab. I thought mother would kill herself with laughing; and you can imagine what a fine impression the strangers received of the model children."

Maud was so tickled with this youthful prank that she unguardedly sat down to laugh on the edge of an open trunk, immediately doubled up, fell in, and was with difficulty extricated.

"People in the country have great deal nicer times than we do. I never rode in a wheelbarrow, I never sat on cabbages, and I don't think it 's fair," she said with an injured expression. "You need n't save any old