The House in Town Part 23

"Easy enough. See how she has got her hands folded over each other; n.o.body does that but somebody that has come from the country. See her hat, too; that's a country hat. If you could see her feet, you would see that she has great thick country shoes."

Judy's eye as she spoke glanced down again at the floor where Matilda's feet stood; and it seemed to Matilda that the very leather of her boots could feel the look. _They_ were country boots. Did Judy mean, that?

"There's another country woman," the young lady went on. "See?--this one in a velvet cloak. That's a cotton velvet, though."

"But how can you tell she's from the country?"

"She's all corners!" said Judith. "Her cloak was made by a carpenter, and her head looks as if it was made by a mason. If you could see her open her mouth, I've no doubt you would find that it is square.

There!--here!--how would you like a cloak like this one?"

The two were looking at a child who pa.s.sed them just then, in a velvet cloak stiff with gimp and bugle embroidery.

"I don't think it is pretty," said Matilda.

"It is rich," said Judy. "But it is not cut by anybody that knew how.

You can see that. Why don't you ask aunt Zara to let you have a black satin cloak?"

"Black satin?" said Matilda.

"Yes. Black satin. It is so rich; and it is not heavy; and there is more s.h.i.+ne to it than silk has. A black satin cloak trimmed with velvet--that is what I should like if I were you."

A strong desire for a black satin cloak forthwith sprang up in Matilda's mind.

"There is not anything more fas.h.i.+onable," Judy went on; "and velvet is just the prettiest tr.i.m.m.i.n.g. When we go up to look at cloaks, you see if you can spy such a one; if you can't, it would be easy to get the stuff and have it made. Just as easy. I don't believe we shall find any ready made, for they are so fas.h.i.+onable, they will be likely to be all bought up. Dear me! what a figure that is!" exclaimed Judy, eying a richly dressed lady who brushed by them.

"Isn't her dress handsome?" Matilda asked.

"It was handsome before it was made up--it isn't now. Dresses are not cut that way now; and the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g is as old as the hills. I guess that has been made two or three years, that dress. And n.o.body wears a shawl now--unless it's a camel's hair. n.o.body would, that knew any better."

"What is a camel's hair?" said Matilda.

"A peculiar sort of rough thick shawl," said Judy. "People wear them because they set off the rest of their dress; but country people don't know enough to wear them. Ask aunt Zara to get you a camel's hair shawl. I wish she would give me one, too."

Matilda wondered why Miss Judith's mother did not get her one, if they were so desirable; but she did not feel at home enough with the young lady to venture any such suggestion. She only did wish very much privately that Mrs. Laval would choose for herself a black satin cloak; but on that score too she did not feel that she could make any requests. Mrs. Laval knew what was fas.h.i.+onable, at any rate, as well as her niece; that was one comfort.

Thinking this, Matilda followed her two companions up the wide staircase. Another world of shops and buyers and sellers up there! What a very wonderful place New York must be. And Stewart's.

"Does everybody come here?" she whispered to Judy.

"Pretty much everybody," said that young lady. "They have to."

"Then they can't buy things anywhere else?"

"What do you mean?" said Judith looking at her.

"I mean, is this the only place where people can get things? are there any more stores beside this?"

Judith's eyes snapped in a way that Matilda resolved she would not provoke again.

"More stores?" she said. "New York is _all_ stores, except the streets where people live."

"Does n.o.body live in the streets where the stores are?" Matilda could not help asking.

"No. n.o.body but the people that live _in_ the stores, you know; that's n.o.body."

Matilda's thoughts were getting rather confused than enlightened; however the party came now, pa.s.sing by a great variety of counters and goods displayed, to a region where Matilda saw there was a small host of cloaks, hung upon frames or stuffed figures. Here Mrs. Laval sat down on a sofa and made Matilda sit down, and called for something that would suit the child's age and size. Velvet, and silk and cloth, and s.h.a.ggy nondescript stuffs, were in turn brought forward; Matilda saw no satin. Mrs. Laval was hard to suit; and Matilda thought Judith was no help, for she constantly put in a word for the articles which Mrs.

Laval disapproved. Matilda was not consulted at all, and indeed neither was Miss Judy. At last a cloak was chosen, not satin, nor even silk, nor even cloth; but of one of those same s.h.a.ggy fabrics which looked coa.r.s.e, Matilda thought. But she noticed that the price was not low, and that consoled her. The cloak was taken down to the carriage, and they left the store.

"Where now, aunt Zara?" said Judith. "We are pretty well lumbered up with packages."

"To get rid of some of them," said Mrs. Laval. "I am going to Fournissons's."

What that meant, Matilda could not guess. The drive was somewhat long; and then the carriage stopped before a plain-looking house in a very plain-looking street. Here they all got out again, and taking the various parcels which contained Matilda's dresses, they went in. They mounted to a common little sitting-room, where some litter was strewn about on the floor. But a personage met them there for whom Matilda very soon conceived a high respect; she knew so much. This was Mme.

Fournissons; the mantua-maker who had the pleasure of receiving Mrs.

Laval's orders. So she said; but Matilda thought the orders rather came from the other side. Mme. Fournissons decided promptly how everything ought to be made, and just what tr.i.m.m.i.n.g would be proper in each case; and proceeded to take Matilda's measure with a thorough-bred air of knowing her business which impressed Matilda very much. Tapes unrolled themselves deftly, and pins went infallibly into place and never out of place; and Madame measured and fitted and talked all at once, with the smooth rapid working of a first-rate steam engine. New York mantua-making was very different from the same thing at Shadywalk! And here Matilda saw the wealth of her new wardrobe unrolled. There was a blue merino and a red cashmere and a brown rep, for daily wear; and there was a most beautiful crimson silk and a dark green one for other occasions. There was a blue c.r.a.pe also, with which Miss Judy evidently fell in love.

"It would not become you, Judy, with your black eyes," her aunt said.

"Now Matilda is fair; it will suit her."

"Charmingly!" Mme. Fournissons had added. "Just the thing. There is a delicacy of skin which will set off the blue, and which the blue will set off. Miss Bartholomew should wear the colours of the dahlia--as her mother knows."

"Clear straw colour, for instance, and purple!" said Judith scornfully.

"Mrs. Bartholomew has not such bad taste," said Mme. Fournissons. "This is?--this young lady?"--

"My adopted daughter, madame," said Mrs. Laval.

"She will not dishonour your style, madam," rejoined the mantua-maker approvingly.

Judith pouted. She could do that well. But Matilda went down the stairs happy. Now she was sure her dress would be quite as handsome and quite as fas.h.i.+onable as Judy's; there would be no room for glances of depreciation, or such shrugs of disdain as had been visited upon the country people coming to Stewart's. All would be strictly correct in her attire, and according to the latest and best mode. The wind blew as hard as ever, and the dust swept in furious charges against everybody in the street by turns; but there were folds of silk and velvet, as well as sheets of plate gla.s.s now, between Matilda and it. When they reached home, Mrs. Laval called Matilda into her room.

"Here are your five dollars for December, my darling," she said. "Have you any boots beside those?"

"No, ma'am."

"You want another pair of boots; and then you will do very well until next month. Norton can take you to the shoemaker's to-morrow,--he likes to take you everywhere; tell him it must be Laddler's. And you will want to go and see your sisters, will you not?"

"O yes, ma'am."

"Where is it?"

Matilda named the place.

"316 Bolivar St.," repeated Mrs. Laval. "Bolivar St. Where is that?

Bolivar Street is away over on the other side of the city, I think, towards what they used to call Chelsea. You could not possibly walk there. I will let the carriage take you. Now darling, get ready for dinner."

Feeling as if she were ten years older than she had been the day before, Matilda mounted the stairs to her room. _Her_ room. This beautiful, comfortable, luxurious place! It was a little hard to recognize herself in it. And when all those dresses should come home--