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Page 6
Miss Dallas was a generously framed, well-proportioned woman, who
carried long trains, and tied her hair with crimson velvet. She had
large, serene eyes, white hands, and a very pleasant smile. A delicate
perfume stirred as she stirred, and she wore a creamy lace about her
throat and wrists.
Calicoes were never becoming to Harrie, and that one with the palm-leaf
did not fit her well,--she cut it herself, to save expense. As the
evening passed, in reaction from the weariness of shirt-cutting she grew
pale, and the sallow tints upon her face came out; her features
sharpened, as they had a way of doing when she was tired; and she had
little else to do that evening than think how tired she was, for her
husband observing, as he remarked afterwards, that she did not feel like
talking, kindly entertained her friend himself.
As they went up stairs for the night, it struck him, for the first time
in his life, that Harrie had a snubbed nose. It annoyed him, because she
was his wife, and he loved her, and liked to feel that she was as well
looking as other women.
"Your friend is a bright girl," he said, encouragingly, when Harrie had
hushed a couple of children, and sat wearily down to unbutton her boots.
"I think you will find her more easy to entertain than Cousin
Mehitabel."
Then, seeing that Harrie answered absently, and how exhausted she
looked, he expressed his sorrow that she should have worked so long over
the shirts, and kissed her as he spoke; while Harrie cried a little, and
felt as if she would cut them all over again for that.
The next day Miss Dallas and Mrs. Sharpe sat sewing together; Harrie
cramping her shoulders and blackening her hands over a patch on Rocko's
rough little trousers; Pauline playing idly with purple and orange
wools,--her fingers were white, and she sank with grace into the warm
colors of the arm-chair; the door was opened into the hall, and Dr.
Sharpe passed by, glancing in as he passed.
"Your husband is a very intelligent man, Harrie," observed Miss Dallas,
studying her lavenders and lemons thoughtfully. "I was much interested
in what he said about pre-Adamic man, last evening."
"Yes," said Harrie, "he knows a great deal. I always thought so." The
little trousers slipped from her black fingers by and by, and her eyes
wandered out of the window absently.
_She_ did not know anything about pre-Adamic man.
In the afternoon they walked down the beach together,--the Doctor, his
wife, and their guest,--accompanied by as few children as circumstances
would admit of. Pauline was stately in a beach-dress of bright browns,
which shaded softly into one another; it was one of Miss Dallas's
peculiarities, that she never wore more than one color, or two, at the
same time. Harrie, as it chanced, wore over her purple dress (Rocko had
tipped over two ink-bottles and a vinegar-cruet on the sack which should
have matched it) a dull gray shawl; her bonnet was blue,--it had been a
present from Myron's sister, and she had no other way than to wear it.
Miss Dallas bounded with pretty feet from rock to rock. Rocko hung
heavily to his mother's fingers; she had no gloves, the child would have
spoiled them; her dress dragged in the sand,--she could not afford two
skirts, and one must be long,--and between Rocko and the wind she held
it up awkwardly.
Dr. Sharpe seldom noticed a woman's dress; he could not have told now
whether his wife's shawl was sky-blue or pea-green; he knew nothing
about the ink-spots; he had never heard of the unfortunate blue bonnet,
or the mysteries of short and long skirts. He might have gone to walk
with her a dozen times and thought her very pretty and "proper" in her
appearance. Now, without the vaguest idea what was the trouble, he
understood that something was wrong. A woman would have said, Mrs.
Sharpe looks dowdy and old-fashioned; he only considered that Miss
Dallas had a pleasant air, like a soft brown picture with crimson lights
let in, and that it was an air which his wife lacked. So, when Rocko
dragged heavily and more heavily at his mother's skirts, and the Doctor
and Pauline wandered off to climb the cliffs, Harrie did not seek to
follow or to call them back. She sat down with Rocko on the beach,
wrapped herself with a savage hug in the ugly shawl, and wondered with a
bitterness with which only women can wonder over such trifles, why God
should send Pauline all the pretty beach-dresses and deny them to
her,--for Harrie, like many another "dowdy" woman whom you see upon the
street, my dear madam, was a woman of fine, keen tastes, and would have
appreciated the soft browns no less than yourself. It seemed to her the
very sting of poverty, just then, that one must wear purple dresses and
blue bonnets.
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