Not Like Other Girls Part 32

She would keep apologizing to Phillis for making her stand so long, and she wanted to hold the pins and to pick up the scissors that Phillis had dropped; and when the young dressmaker consulted her about the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, she was far too humble to intrude her opinions.

"Anything you think best, Miss Challoner, for you have such beautiful taste as never was seen; and I am sure the way you have fitted that body-lining is just wonderful, and would be a lesson to Miss Slasher for life. No, don't put the pins in your mouth, there's a dear."

For, in her intense zeal, Phillis had thought herself bound to follow the manner of Mrs. Sloper, the village factotum, and she always did so, though Nan afterwards a.s.sured her that it was not necessary, and that in this particular they might be allowed to deviate from example.

But she was quite proud of herself when she had finished, for the material seemed to mould under her fingers in the most marvellous way, and she knew the fit would be perfect. She wanted to rush off at once and set to work with Nan; but Miss Milner would not let her off so easily. There was orange wine and seed-cake of her own making in the back parlor, and she had just one question--a very little question--to ask. And here Miss Milner coughed a little behind her hand to gain time and recover her courage.

"The little papers were about the shop, and Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs saw one, and--and----" Here Phillis came promptly to her relief.

"And Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs wants to order a dress, does she?" And Phillis bravely kept down the sudden sinking of heart at the news.

Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was the butcher's wife,--the sister of that very Mrs.

Squails of whom Dulce once made mention,--well known to be the dressiest woman in Hadleigh, who was much given to imitate her betters. The newest fashions, the best materials, were always to be found on Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's portly figure.

"What could I do?" observed Miss Milner, apologetically: "the papers were about the shop, and what does the woman do but take one up? 'I wonder what sort of dressmakers these are?' she said, careless-like; 'there is my new blue silk that Andrew brought himself from London and paid five-and-sixpence a yard for in St. Paul's Churchyard; and I daren't let Miss Slasher have it, for she made such a mess of that French merino. She had to let it out at every seam before I could get into it, and it is so tight for me now that I shall be obliged to cut it up for Mary Anne. I wonder if I dare try these new people?"

"And what did you say, Miss Milner?"

"What could I do then, my dear young lady, but speak up and say the best I could for you? for though Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs is not high,--not one of the gentry, I mean,--and has a rough tongue sometimes, still she knows what good stuff and good cutting-out means, and a word from her might do you a power of good among the townfolks, for her gowns are always after the best patterns."

"All right!" returned Phillis, cheerfully: "one must creep before one runs, and, until the gentry employ us, we ought to think ourselves fortunate to work for the townpeople. I am not a bit above making a dress for Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, though I would rather make one for you, Miss Milner, because you have been so kind to us."

"There, now! didn't I say there never were such young ladies!"

exclaimed Miss Milner, quite affected at this. "Well, if you are sure you don't mind, Miss Challoner dear, will you please go to Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's this morning? for though I told her my dress was to be finished first, still Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's isn't a stone's-throw from here; and you may as well settle a thing when you are about it."

"And I will take the silk, Miss Milner, if you will kindly let me have a nice piece of brown paper."

"Indeed and you will do no such thing, Miss Challoner; and there is Joseph going down with the papers to Mr. Drummond's, and will leave it at the Friary as he pa.s.ses."

"Oh, thank you," observed Phillis, gratefully. "Then I will pencil a word to my sister, to let her know why I am detained." And she scrawled a line to Nan:

"Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, not Squails: here beginneth the first chapter. Expect me when you see me, and do nothing until I come."

There was no side-door at Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's, and Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was at the desk, jotting down legs of mutton, and entries of gravy-beef and suet, with a rapidity that would have tried the brain of any other woman than a butcher's wife.

When Phillis approached, she looked up at her suavely, expecting custom.

"Just half a moment, ma'am," she said, civilly. "Yes, Joe, wing-rib and half of suet to Mrs. Penfold, and a loin of lamb and sweet-bread for No. 12, Albert Terrace. Now, ma'am, what can I do for you?"

"I have only come about your dress, Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs," returned Phillis, in a very small voice; and then she tried not to laugh, as Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs regarded her with a broad stare of astonishment, which took her in comprehensively, hat, dress, and neat dogskin gloves.

"You might have taken up my pen and knocked me down with it," was Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's graphic description of her feelings afterwards, as she carved a remarkably fine loin of veal, with a knuckle of ham and some kidney-beans to go with it. "There was the colonel standing by the desk, Andrew; and he turned right round and looked at us both. 'I've come about your dress, Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs,' she said, as pertlike as possible. Law, I thought I should have dropped, I was that taken aback."

Phillis's feelings were none of the pleasantest when Colonel Middleton turned round and looked at her. There was an expression almost of sorrow in the old man's eyes, as he so regarded her, which made her feel hot and uncomfortable. It was a relief when Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs roused from her stupefaction and bustled out of the desk.

"This way, miss," she said, with a jerk of her comely head. But her tone changed a little, and became at once sharp and familiar. "I hope you understand your business, for I never could abide waste; and the way Miss Slasher cut into that gray merino,--and it only just meets, so to say,--and the breadths are as scanty as possible; and it would go to my heart to have a beautiful piece of silk spoiled, flve-and-sixpence a yard, and not a flaw in it."

"If I thought I should spoil your dress I would not undertake it,"

returned Phillis, gently. She felt she must keep herself perfectly quiet with this sort of people. "My sister and I have just made up some very pretty silk and cashmere costumes, and they fitted as perfectly as possible."

"Oh, indeed!" observed Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs, in a patronizing tone. She had no idea that the costumes of which Phillis spoke had been worn by the young dressmakers at one of Lady Fitzroy's afternoon parties. She was not quite at her ease with Phillis; she thought her a little high-and-mighty in her manner. "A uppish young person," as she said afterwards; "but her grand airs made no sort of difference to me, I can a.s.sure you."

There was no holding pins or picking up scissors in this case. On the contrary, Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs watched with a vigilant eye, and was ready to pounce on Phillis at the least mistake or oversight, seeing which Phillis grew cooler and more off-hand every moment. There was a great deal of haggling over the cut of the sleeve and arrangement of the drapery. "If you will kindly leave it to me," Phillis said once; but nothing was further from Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's intention. She had not a silk dress every day. And she had always been accustomed to settle all these points herself, while Miss Slasher had stood by humbly turning over the pages of her fashion-books, and calling her, at every sentence, "Ma'am," a word that Phillis's lips had not yet uttered.

Phillis's patience was almost tired out, when she was at last allowed to depart with a large brown-paper parcel under her arm. Mrs.

Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs would have wrapped it up in newspaper, but Phillis had so curtly refused to have anything but brown paper that her manner rather overawed the woman.

Poor Phillis! Yes, it had really come to pa.s.s, and here she was, actually walking through Hadleigh in the busiest time of the day, with a large, ugly-looking parcel and a little black bag! She had thought of sending Dorothy for the dress, but she knew what a trial it would have been to the old woman to see one of her young ladies reduced to this, and she preferred ladening herself to hurting the poor old creature's feelings. So she walked out bravely in her best style. But nevertheless her shapely neck would turn itself now and then from side to side, as though in dread of some familiar face. And there were little pin-p.r.i.c.ks all over her of irritation and mortified self-love.

"A thing is all very well in theory, but it may be tough in practice,"

she said to herself. And she felt an irresistible desire to return the offending dress to that odious Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs and tell her she would have nothing to do with her,--"a disagreeable old cat," I am afraid Phillis called her, for one is not always charitable and civil-spoken in one's thoughts.

"We are going the same way. May I carry that formidable-looking parcel for you?" asked a voice that was certainly becoming very familiar.

Poor Phillis started and blushed; but she looked more annoyed than pleased at the rencontre.

"Mr. Drummond, are you omnipresent?--one is forever encountering you!"

she said, quite pettishly; but, when Archie only laughed, and tried to obtain possession of the parcel, she resisted, and would have none of his a.s.sistance.

"Oh, dear, no!" she said: "I could not think of such a thing! Fancy the vicar of Hadleigh condescending to carry home Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's dress!"

"Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs's dress?" repeated Mr. Drummond, in a rapid crescendo.

"Oh, Miss Challoner! I declare this beats everything!"

Phillis threw him a glance. She meant it to be cool, but she could not keep the sadness out of her eyes; they did so contradict the a.s.sumed lightness of her words:

"Miss Milner was far more considerate: she made Joseph carry hers to the Friary when he left your papers. Was he not a benevolent Joseph?

Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs wanted to wrap up her silk in newspaper; but I said to myself, 'One must draw the line somewhere;' and so I held out for brown paper. Do you think you could have offered to carry a parcel in newspaper, Mr. Drummond? Oh, by the bye, how can you condescend to walk with a dressmaker? But this is a quiet road, and no one will see you."

"Pardon me if I contradict you, but there is Colonel Middleton looking over his garden palings this moment," returned Mr. Drummond, who had just become painfully aware of the fact.

"Don't you think you had better go and speak to him, then? for you see I am in no need of help," retorted Phillis, who was sore all over, and wanted to get rid of him, and yet would have been offended if he had taken her at her word. But Mr. Drummond, who felt his position an uncomfortable one, and was dreadfully afraid of the colonel's banter, was not mean enough to take advantage of her dismissal. He had joined himself to her company out of pure good nature, for it was a hot day and the parcel was heavy, but she would have none of his a.s.sistance.

So he only waved his hand to his friend, who took off his old felt hat very solemnly in return, and watched them with a grieved expression until they were out of sight.

"Now I will bid you good-bye," he said, when they had reached the vicarage.

Phillis said nothing; but she held out her hand, and there was a certain brightness in her eyes that showed she was pleased.

"He is a gentleman, every inch of him; and I won't quarrel with him any more," she thought, as she walked up to the Friary. "Oh, how nice it would have been if we were still at Glen Cottage and he could see us at our best, and we were able to entertain him in our old fashion!

How Carrie and the other girls would have liked him! and how jealous d.i.c.k would have been! for he never liked our bringing strange young men to the house, and always found fault with them if he could," and here Phillis sighed, and for the moment Mrs. Tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs was forgotten.

CHAPTER XXIII.

"BRAVO, ATALANTA!"