see.”
“Why don’t you go up to the attic and look in my mother’s trunk?” said Grandma. “You might find some goods there. You know when your great-grandmother was young they wore skirts with nine breadths in them. That ought to make one of the little skimpy makeshifts they wear now. I remember there was a real handsome brocade, gold and silver and pink rosebuds in it. It might be tarnished, I don’t know. Here, I’ll get the key and you go look. It’s the little haircloth trunk under the eaves.”
“Oh, Grandmother! You wouldn’t want me to cut up Great-Grandmother’s wonderful brocade!”
“Why not?” said Grandmother Sherrill proudly. “She can’t wear it anymore, and I’m certain I shan’t! You know you’d never be seen in it the way it is now and if we wait till it comes around in fashion again we’ll all be gone. I don’t see making a museum of the attic. Nobody ever goes up there! If it can be of any use to you now, why, consider it Great-Grandmother Sherrill’s contribution. It goes with the name, don’t you see?”
Sherrill considered this breathtaking suggestion a moment.
“But perhaps it isn’t good enough!” said Grandmother Sherrill. “Perhaps they’d make fun of it in New York. Don’t, for pity’s sake, take it, if you don’t want it.”
“Oh, I think it will be wonderful!” said Sherrill. “I think it is a good deal like that wonderful metal blouse Margery brought home from Chicago with her, only ten times more lovely. I’ll ask Aunt Harry. She’ll know.”
“Yes, ask her!” said Grandmother Sherrill. “Don’t get any ancestral elephants on your hands, for pity’s sake.”
So Sherrill went up in the attic and came down with her arms full of quaint garments, satins, and brocades, and one fine rose pink taffeta, soft and lovely as the dew on a rose, with a big bertha of fine old lace yellowed with age. There were kerchiefs and under sleeves of old hand embroidery, sweet with lavender—a few lovely hand-wrought collars, and several yards of real Valenciennes, on undergarments of antique cut.
“They’re wonderful!” said Sherrill with her eyes shining. “If you really think I ought to use them!”
“Of course, you’ll use them!” said Grandma Sherrill, fingering the silk and giving the lace a firm little tug to see if it was rotten.
Then Sherrill went upstairs to the second floor and foraged out some of her own last winter’s dresses, with bundles of pieces like them, and brought those down. The sitting room looked in complete disarray.
Mother came to examine and unroll the pieces, rejecting some and laying others aside for possible use.
By the time Keith came home the excitement was on.
“Well, she’s going!” announced Grandmother with a twinkle.
“That’s the girl! I knew she would!” said the elder brother. “What’s all this, you aren’t packing already?” he asked, as he looked around on the laden chairs and couch.
They all tried to explain at once how they had found that material could be used and made over without purchasing new frocks, and how generous Aunt Harry had been.
Keith went around genially, looking at everything they showed him and beaming on them all, and presently he went up to his room and came down in a few minutes with a check.
“There’s a starter,” he said. “I’ll be able to give you more later, kid. But that’ll buy a few shoes and things. You can’t make over shoes.”
The check was for a hundred dollars, and Sherrill knew that meant Keith would wait that much longer for the car he was hoping to purchase soon, which he really needed in his business. She flung her arms around his neck and nearly strangled him,
“Oh, Keith,” she cried, with tears in her eyes, “I feel like a pig, going away from all you dear, dear people, and taking everything you’ve got with me! I don’t need all this, really I don’t, buddy!”
“That! Why that’s not much! That’s only a drop in the bucket. Wait till I
“Why don’t you go up to the attic and look in my mother’s trunk?” said Grandma. “You might find some goods there. You know when your great-grandmother was young they wore skirts with nine breadths in them. That ought to make one of the little skimpy makeshifts they wear now. I remember there was a real handsome brocade, gold and silver and pink rosebuds in it. It might be tarnished, I don’t know. Here, I’ll get the key and you go look. It’s the little haircloth trunk under the eaves.”
“Oh, Grandmother! You wouldn’t want me to cut up Great-Grandmother’s wonderful brocade!”
“Why not?” said Grandmother Sherrill proudly. “She can’t wear it anymore, and I’m certain I shan’t! You know you’d never be seen in it the way it is now and if we wait till it comes around in fashion again we’ll all be gone. I don’t see making a museum of the attic. Nobody ever goes up there! If it can be of any use to you now, why, consider it Great-Grandmother Sherrill’s contribution. It goes with the name, don’t you see?”
Sherrill considered this breathtaking suggestion a moment.
“But perhaps it isn’t good enough!” said Grandmother Sherrill. “Perhaps they’d make fun of it in New York. Don’t, for pity’s sake, take it, if you don’t want it.”
“Oh, I think it will be wonderful!” said Sherrill. “I think it is a good deal like that wonderful metal blouse Margery brought home from Chicago with her, only ten times more lovely. I’ll ask Aunt Harry. She’ll know.”
“Yes, ask her!” said Grandmother Sherrill. “Don’t get any ancestral elephants on your hands, for pity’s sake.”
So Sherrill went up in the attic and came down with her arms full of quaint garments, satins, and brocades, and one fine rose pink taffeta, soft and lovely as the dew on a rose, with a big bertha of fine old lace yellowed with age. There were kerchiefs and under sleeves of old hand embroidery, sweet with lavender—a few lovely hand-wrought collars, and several yards of real Valenciennes, on undergarments of antique cut.
“They’re wonderful!” said Sherrill with her eyes shining. “If you really think I ought to use them!”
“Of course, you’ll use them!” said Grandma Sherrill, fingering the silk and giving the lace a firm little tug to see if it was rotten.
Then Sherrill went upstairs to the second floor and foraged out some of her own last winter’s dresses, with bundles of pieces like them, and brought those down. The sitting room looked in complete disarray.
Mother came to examine and unroll the pieces, rejecting some and laying others aside for possible use.
By the time Keith came home the excitement was on.
“Well, she’s going!” announced Grandmother with a twinkle.
“That’s the girl! I knew she would!” said the elder brother. “What’s all this, you aren’t packing already?” he asked, as he looked around on the laden chairs and couch.
They all tried to explain at once how they had found that material could be used and made over without purchasing new frocks, and how generous Aunt Harry had been.
Keith went around genially, looking at everything they showed him and beaming on them all, and presently he went up to his room and came down in a few minutes with a check.
“There’s a starter,” he said. “I’ll be able to give you more later, kid. But that’ll buy a few shoes and things. You can’t make over shoes.”
The check was for a hundred dollars, and Sherrill knew that meant Keith would wait that much longer for the car he was hoping to purchase soon, which he really needed in his business. She flung her arms around his neck and nearly strangled him,
“Oh, Keith,” she cried, with tears in her eyes, “I feel like a pig, going away from all you dear, dear people, and taking everything you’ve got with me! I don’t need all this, really I don’t, buddy!”
“That! Why that’s not much! That’s only a drop in the bucket. Wait till I
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