A Duet, with an Occasional Chorus Part 34

'Why so?' asked her two companions.

'Well, the fact is,' said Maude, 'Frank--my husband, you know--came to a fancy-dress at St. Albans as the Pied Piper. I had no idea that it came from Browning.'

'How did he dress for it?' asked Mrs. Beecher. 'We are invited to the Aston's dress ball, and I want something suitable for George.'

'It was a most charming dress. Red and black all over, something like Mephistopheles, you know, and a peaked hat with a bell at the top. Then he had a flute, of course, and a thin wire from his waist with a stuffed rat at the end of it.'

'A rat! How horrid!'

'Well, that was the story, you know. The rats all followed the Pied Piper, and so this rat followed Frank. He put it in his pocket when he danced, but once he forgot, and so it got stood upon, and the sawdust came out all over the floor.'

Mrs. Hunt Mortimer was also invited to the dress ball, and her thoughts flew away from the book in front of her.

'How did you go, Mrs. Crosse?' she asked.

'I went as "Night."'

'What! you with your brown hair!'

'Well, father said that I was not a very dark night. I was in black, you know, just my ordinary black silk dinner-dress. Then I had a silver half-moon over my head, and black veils round my hair, and stars all over my bodice and skirt, with a long comet right across the front. Father upset a cup of milk over me at supper, and said afterwards that it was the milky way.'

'It is simply maddening how men WILL make jokes about the most important subjects,' said Mrs. Hunt Mortimer. 'But I have no doubt, dear, that your dress was an exceedingly effective one. Now, for my own part, I had some idea of going as the "d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire."'

'Charming!' cried Mrs. Beecher and Maude.

'It is not a very difficult costume, you know. I have some old Point d'Alencon lace which has been in the family for a century. I make it the starting-point of my costume. The gown need not be very elaborate--'

'Silk?' asked Mrs. Beecher.

'Well, I thought that perhaps a white-flowered brocade--'

'Oh yes, with pearl tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.'

'No, no, dear, with my lace for tr.i.m.m.i.n.g.'

'Of course. You said so.'

'And then a muslin fichu coming over here.'

'How perfectly sweet!' cried Maude.

'And the waist cut high, and ruffles at the sleeves. And, of course, a picture hat--you know what I mean--with a curling ostrich feather.'

'Powdered hair, of course?' said Mrs. Beecher.

'Powdered in ringlets.'

'It will suit you admirably--beautifully. You are tall enough to carry it off, and you have the figure also. How I wish I was equally certain about my own!'

'What had you thought of, dear?'

'Well, I had some idea about "Ophelia." Do you think that it would do?'

'Certainly. Had you worked it out at all?'

'Well, my dear,' said Mrs. Beecher, relapsing into her pleasant confidential manner. 'I had some views, but, of course, I should be so glad to have your opinion about it. I only saw Hamlet once, and the lady was dressed in white, with a gauzy light nun's-veiling over it. I thought that with white pongee silk as an under-dress, and then some sort of delicate--'

'Crepe de Chine,' Maude suggested.

'But in Ophelia's day such a thing had never been heard of,' said Mrs. Hunt Mortimer. 'A net of silver thread--'

'Exactly,' cried Mrs. Beecher, 'with some sort of jewelling upon it.

That was just what I had imagined. Of course it should be cut cla.s.sically and draped--my dressmaker is such a treasure--and I should have a gold embroidery upon the white silk.'

'Crewel work,' said Maude.

'Or a plain cross-st.i.tch pattern. Then a tiara of pearls on the head. Shakespeare--'

At the name of the poet their three consciences p.r.i.c.ked simultaneously. They looked at each other and then at the clock with dismay.

'We must--we really MUST go on with our reading,' cried Mrs. Hunt Mortimer. 'How did we get talking about these dresses?'

'It was my fault,' said Mrs. Beecher, looking contrite.

'No, dear, it was mine,' said Maude. 'You remember it all came from my saying that Frank had gone to the ball as the Pied Piper.'

'I am going to read the very first poem that I open,' said Mrs. Hunt Mortimer remorselessly. 'I am afraid that it is almost time that I started, but we may still be able to skim over a few pages. Now then! There! Setebos! What a funny name!'

'What DOES it mean?' asked Maude.

'We shall find out, no doubt, as we proceed,' said Mrs. Hunt Mortimer. 'We shall take it line by line and draw the full meaning from it. The first line is -

'Will sprawl now that the heat of day is best--'

'Who will?' asked Mrs. Beecher.

'I don't know. That's what it says.'

'The next line will explain, no doubt.'

'Flat on his--'

'Dear me, I had no idea that Browning was like this!'

'Do read it, dear.'