The Flower Brides (6 page)

So she sat with pencil and paper at her desk and began to make some plans. She wrote down a list of things her mother needed for the trip and their probable cost. She speculated on what it would cost her to buy some other less expensive dress for the party, a wrap and accessories, also the relative cost of buying material and making a dress. She added it all up and puzzled over it until her head ached. Why, oh, why did this, her first wonderful party, have to be so complicated with duty and disappointment to others?

At noontime she was frantic. She must get her lovely dress back at all costs. She would somehow manage to work a few evenings in the library or somewhere and get enough to send Mother properly provided for, too. She couldn’t go to the party without that dress, and of course she must go to the party or Laurie would be offended. Although Laurie hadn’t said anything about it the other night. Perhaps he didn’t know yet that she had her invitation. However, she
had
to look right at that party.

So she went without her lunch and took a taxi back to the shop.

As she entered, the saleswoman who had sold the dress to her yesterday came smiling toward her.

“It’s sold!” she announced cheerfully. “The customer was crazy about it the minute she saw it and it fit her all right, although I must say she didn’t have as good a figure as yours. I thought it was a little snug. She’s taller than you are, too, and the hem had to be let down a trifle for her. But she was tickled to death about it. She said it was just what she’d been looking for and she had begun to think she couldn’t get it this side of Paris. And wasn’t it wonderful you should have brought it back just in time for Madame to make that wonderful sale! She charged her more for it than she did you. She knew she wanted it so much. Don’t tell her I told you that. But I’m sure she’ll give you a good price on that brown suit if you want it. You came back to try it on, didn’t you? Just go into the fitting room there and I’ll bring it to you. Madame is out to lunch, but she’ll be back before we get it on you; she never stays long.”

Marigold, with her heart drooping down heavily, walked into the fitting room without a word. Her dress was gone, her beautiful dress, thrown away by her own hand. This morning it was hers, hanging in her modest closet with her plain little wardrobe. And now it was gone, to some rich, arrogant stranger, and she would never likely see nor hear of it again! She wanted to sit down on the gray upholstered chair and cry! Her lovely, lovely dress that she had discovered and paid for with her own money and rejoiced in! And now, by her own silly act, she had thrown it away! Could she ever forgive herself?

While she unfastened her plain little school dress and got ready to try on the brown one, she was staring at herself in the mirror and trying to remember what had worked on her to make her do this foolish thing. And as she looked at herself she caught a glimpse of her background—the gray velvet carpet, the ivory woodwork, and the delicate rosy tint of the walls—and suddenly it reminded her of the walls of her dream, and with strange whimsy she stood again on that narrow ledge, with the ivory and rose of the walls above her and below her the grayness of the tiled floor so far away, and only vast space between. Her heart contracted. Laurie had been down below there, somewhere, in her dream, and had deserted her; and in the dim quiet of the room beyond the arches, her mother had sat working away at her library records, while she had hung in peril on that fantastic ledge of plaster and swayed between heaven and earth!

It was all fanciful, of course, yet there was something uncanny about it, like a warning of some peril that she could not see, and suddenly she was under the power of that dream again. Whatever the feeling might be, whether of peril to her dear mother or of some danger connected with Laurie, she could not let it go unheeded. No future happiness founded on a mistake could make up for torture of soul. Well, she must be calm about it. The dress was gone, and the saleswoman was bringing the brown suit. She would try it on as if that was what she had come for, and then she would go her way back to her school, and perhaps this chaos of mind would finally subside. When she became normal again, she would try to plan for Mother and for another dress for herself, but now she was simply dazed with her various emotions. Was one dress and one party worth so much?

But when the brown suit was put on her, her mood changed again. It was lovely and sensible, a garment she could wear for years because the style was not extreme. And it was flattering. Yet what good would it do for the party? If she were going to Washington with Mother it would be ideal, but what would she do for the party?

“It’s just your style, you know,” said the saleswoman.

“Yes,” said Marigold thoughtfully. “I like it, and I’m sure Mother will like it, but I’m not sure I should pay so much for such a suit.”

“You wait till Madame comes,” said the woman with a knowing wink. “I’m sure she’ll make the price right. You know, it’s getting late in the season now, and Madame always puts down the winter things. This is really your style. You just wait! Madame ought to be here any minute.”

“Well, but I can’t wait,” Marigold said, smiling. “I have to be back at once. And besides, while I’d love the suit, it’s an evening gown that I set out to buy, and I’m not sure how much that’s going to cost.”

“I’ll tell you what!” said the woman in a low tone. “I’ll put this aside for you, until you can run in this afternoon. Meantime, I’ll be looking up something nifty for you in an evening dress at a low price and see what we can do. Do you like green? There’s one that would be wonderful with your hair. It’s quite simple. I’m sure it would be better for you than that sophisticated white one with that startling red sash! It’s just a little importation that was ordered in blue by a customer and it came in green by mistake. It has a high back, too, and that’s what you like. I think Madame would give you a good price on it. You know, the season is coming to a close, and Madame never likes to carry stock over. You come in this afternoon, and I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Oh!” said Marigold, catching her breath and feeling more bewildered than ever. “Well, perhaps I will come in on my way home.”

She got away at once and hurried back to school, buying an apple and a cake of chocolate at a corner grocery and eating them on her way. Perhaps by afternoon her thoughts would have straightened out and she would know what she ought to do.

Back in school, she suddenly remembered about the telegram she had not sent. She must attend to that the first thing when school was out. And what should she say? Obviously not the message that Mother had told her to send, for by this time she was thoroughly determined that, come what might, party or no party, Mother should go to Washington in time for her sister’s birthday.

At last she succeeded in writing a message that pleased her.

She sent it off with satisfaction on her way home, and as she walked on toward the shop again she felt calmer now. She had done something, anyway. She had sent that telegram, and it was up to her to plan the rest and make it a success. Mother needed some dresses. It was ages since she had had a new dress. All of her things were tastefully made, of course, but it would be so nice to take her something that was all ready to put on, something she hadn’t slaved over herself. She ought to have at least two new dresses if she went on a journey, perhaps three. A nice suit to travel in, a pretty crepe for dress-up, a simple morning dress—perhaps her dark blue crepe would do for morning if she had fresh collars and cuffs.

By the time Marigold had reached the shop, it was her mother’s wardrobe she was interested in, not her own. She entered in a very businesslike way and told Madame what she wanted for her mother, and Madame smiled and brought out dresses, just the things that pleased Marigold’s beauty-loving soul. She could see her sweet, quiet mother arrayed in these. And suddenly it seemed to her far more desirable that her mother should be suitably dressed than that she should have an evening gown. Why, if she gave up spending a hundred and fifty dollars she could get all three of these dresses she liked so much for her mother and still have some left for other needs. Why should she have a grand party dress? She had always gotten along with very cheap little dresses and looked all right; everybody seemed to think so, anyway.

And while she hesitated, Madame spoke. “You like to take these up and let your maman to try them on? Or she, will she come down here?”

“I’m afraid she couldn’t. She—is a businesswoman.”

“I see. Then I send them up. Marco is driving out to deliver some dresses now. I could send them up within the hour, and you perhaps will return any in the morning that you do not keep?” She smiled. “And now, you will try on your own?”

Marigold gasped a little then. “Oh, I don’t know that I could afford—that is, if I take these for Mother. You see, she does not know yet. I want her to take a little trip. She is tired.”

“That is quite lovely of you, my dear. But I send these up, and you and your mother try them and see which you like. You can return what you do not wish to take. And now we see about this green dress. It was just made for you, my child. So simple! So ingenue. And only—” She lowered her voice to a whisper and named a price that almost took Marigold’s breath away, it was so reasonable. Why, even if she bought all five of these dresses she would be spending less than she would have paid for that one evening gown, which somehow in the light of this simple green silk now seemed too stately and sophisticated for her. And suddenly her young soul, which had been so tried all day, seemed to have reached a quiet place where there was a solid foundation under her feet.

She went home with a springing step and prepared supper so that it would be ready when her mother got home. She called up the bus station and got schedules and rates to Washington, and she had everything ready to convince her mother that she should go.

They had a great evening trying on dresses and making plans.

At first Mrs. Brooke was adamant. No, she could not think of going. No, she did not want to go, not the day of the party. She must be there to see her girl dressed in fine array.

But the mother was really relieved when she saw the green dress instead of the white one.

“It is much more fitting to you, dear, and I do like you to wear things that Christian people would consider decent. I cannot bear for you to go in for all the freaks of fashion, especially when they verge on indecency. You look so lovely in that green dress, and yet you look like my dear girl as well. I didn’t feel as if I quite knew you in that other one last night. I felt as if you were being drawn into a world where neither you nor I belong, and that if you went there, you and I were going to be terribly separated.”

“Well, but Mother, when one goes into the world occasionally, doesn’t one have to do, at least to a certain extent, as the world does?”

“You must answer that question to your own conscience, my child,” said her mother, with a troubled look. “I question whether a Christian has a right to go where he has to lower his standards.”

“Oh, Mother!” exclaimed Marigold wearily. And then the telephone abruptly interrupted.

It was Laurie. He couldn’t come over that evening as he had planned to take her skating again. His mother had made plans for him, some fool girl from Boston was coming and Mother expected him to take her out. It was a beastly bore, but he couldn’t get out of it. He might not be able to get over the next night, either. Mother had so many plans on that seemed to require his presence, but he would see her in a day or two.

As Marigold hung up the receiver, she was graver than her usual self. What omen of peril was there in her thoughts? Had Laurie been less eager about getting to her than before? Who was this girl from Boston? Was she staying for the party? Would there be all those days without Laurie perhaps? Would he have to divide his attentions between them? She had thought of that party in terms of being Laurie’s companion, and suddenly she knew she would not be, not all the time, anyway. He was the son of the house and would have to divide his attentions. And all at once she felt terribly alone and frightened at the thought of the party.

Her mother watched her anxiously as she took off the pretty green dress and hung it where last night the white one had hung.

“I’m glad you found it,” Mrs. Brooke said with relief in her voice. “It is so much better for you than the other one!”

“I don’t know, Mother,” said Marigold in a disheartened little voice. “I’m not sure it is the right thing for such a formal party. Madame said it was, of course, but then she wanted to sell it to me. I don’t feel as if it would be a moral support like the other.”

“My dear, if you were thinking to go out and conquer Laurie’s family on the strength of that expensive dress, you were making a very great mistake. You would have been like David in Saul’s armor.”