of Alicia’s bridal party.
“Oh, I’m so glad one of you had a good time,” said Octavia. “All I could get out of Missy was that she’d had a wretched time. I suppose her trouble is lack of friends.”
“True, and no one is sorrier for it than I. But dear Eustace’s death removed any chance of brothers and sisters for Missy, and this house is so far out of Byron on the wrong side that no one ever wants to come and see us regularly.”
Missy waited for her sins to be divulged, but her mother made no reference to them. Courage seeping back, she went inside. Ever since the heart trouble came on it had become easier for her to assert herself, and apparently also easier for her mother to accept these signs of independence. Only it wasn’t really the heart trouble that caused the change. It was Una. Yes, everything went back to Una’s advent; Una’s forthrightness, Una’s frankness, Una’s unwillingness to be sat on by anyone. Una would have told a supercilious twerp like James Hurlingford to go bite his bum, Una would have given Alicia something verbal to remember if she condescended, Una would always make sure people treated her with respect. And somehow this had rubbed off on such an unlikely pupil as Missy Wright.
When Missy walked in, Drusilla leaped up, beaming.
“Missy, you’ll never guess!” she cried, reaching round to the back of the chair where she had been sitting and plucking a very large box off the floor. “As I was leaving the party, Alicia came and gave me this for you to wear at her wedding. She assured me that the colour would suit you beautifully, though I confess I would never have thought of it for myself. Only look!”
Missy stood turned to stone while her mother scrabbled in the box and unearthed a bundle of stiff and crushed organdie which she proceeded to shake out and hold up for Missy’s dazed inspection. A gorgeous dress of a pale toffee shade, not tan and not yellow and not quite amber; those in the know would have understood that its frilled skirt and neckline put it at least five or six years out of date, but even so it was a gorgeous dress, and with extensive alterations it would suit Missy down to the ground.
“And the hat, only look at the hat!” squeaked Drusilla, clawing a huge cartwheel of pale toffee straw out of the box and twitching its artless piles of matching organdie into place. “Did you ever see a more beautiful hat? Oh, dearest Missy, you shall have a pair of shoes, no matter how impractical they are!”
The stone dropped away from Missy’s limbs at last; she stepped forward, arms extended to receive Alicia’s bounty, and her mother placed dress and hat in them at once.
“I’ll wear my new brown satin and my home-made hat and good sturdy boots!” said Missy through her teeth, and took to her heels out the back door, the masses of organdie billowing up about her like the skirts on a swimming bêche-de-mer.
It was not yet fully dark; as she raced for the shed she could hear the frantic cries of her mother and aunt somewhere behind, but by the time they caught up with her, it was too late. The dress and hat were trampled beyond repair into the muck of the milking stall, and Missy, a shovel in her hands, was busy heaping every pile of dung she could find on top of Alicia’s grand gesture.
Drusilla was unspeakably hurt. “How could you? Oh, how could you, Missy? Just this once in your life, you had a chance to look and feel like a belle!”
Missy laid the shovel against the shed wall and dusted her hands together in complete satisfaction. “You above all people ought to understand how I could, Mother,” she said. “No one’s pride is stiffer than yours, no one I know is quicker than you to interpret the most well-meaning gift as charity in disguise. Why then are you denying me my share of that pride? Would you have taken the gift for yourself? Why then take it for me? Do you honestly think Alicia did it to please me? Of course she didn’t!
“Oh, I’m so glad one of you had a good time,” said Octavia. “All I could get out of Missy was that she’d had a wretched time. I suppose her trouble is lack of friends.”
“True, and no one is sorrier for it than I. But dear Eustace’s death removed any chance of brothers and sisters for Missy, and this house is so far out of Byron on the wrong side that no one ever wants to come and see us regularly.”
Missy waited for her sins to be divulged, but her mother made no reference to them. Courage seeping back, she went inside. Ever since the heart trouble came on it had become easier for her to assert herself, and apparently also easier for her mother to accept these signs of independence. Only it wasn’t really the heart trouble that caused the change. It was Una. Yes, everything went back to Una’s advent; Una’s forthrightness, Una’s frankness, Una’s unwillingness to be sat on by anyone. Una would have told a supercilious twerp like James Hurlingford to go bite his bum, Una would have given Alicia something verbal to remember if she condescended, Una would always make sure people treated her with respect. And somehow this had rubbed off on such an unlikely pupil as Missy Wright.
When Missy walked in, Drusilla leaped up, beaming.
“Missy, you’ll never guess!” she cried, reaching round to the back of the chair where she had been sitting and plucking a very large box off the floor. “As I was leaving the party, Alicia came and gave me this for you to wear at her wedding. She assured me that the colour would suit you beautifully, though I confess I would never have thought of it for myself. Only look!”
Missy stood turned to stone while her mother scrabbled in the box and unearthed a bundle of stiff and crushed organdie which she proceeded to shake out and hold up for Missy’s dazed inspection. A gorgeous dress of a pale toffee shade, not tan and not yellow and not quite amber; those in the know would have understood that its frilled skirt and neckline put it at least five or six years out of date, but even so it was a gorgeous dress, and with extensive alterations it would suit Missy down to the ground.
“And the hat, only look at the hat!” squeaked Drusilla, clawing a huge cartwheel of pale toffee straw out of the box and twitching its artless piles of matching organdie into place. “Did you ever see a more beautiful hat? Oh, dearest Missy, you shall have a pair of shoes, no matter how impractical they are!”
The stone dropped away from Missy’s limbs at last; she stepped forward, arms extended to receive Alicia’s bounty, and her mother placed dress and hat in them at once.
“I’ll wear my new brown satin and my home-made hat and good sturdy boots!” said Missy through her teeth, and took to her heels out the back door, the masses of organdie billowing up about her like the skirts on a swimming bêche-de-mer.
It was not yet fully dark; as she raced for the shed she could hear the frantic cries of her mother and aunt somewhere behind, but by the time they caught up with her, it was too late. The dress and hat were trampled beyond repair into the muck of the milking stall, and Missy, a shovel in her hands, was busy heaping every pile of dung she could find on top of Alicia’s grand gesture.
Drusilla was unspeakably hurt. “How could you? Oh, how could you, Missy? Just this once in your life, you had a chance to look and feel like a belle!”
Missy laid the shovel against the shed wall and dusted her hands together in complete satisfaction. “You above all people ought to understand how I could, Mother,” she said. “No one’s pride is stiffer than yours, no one I know is quicker than you to interpret the most well-meaning gift as charity in disguise. Why then are you denying me my share of that pride? Would you have taken the gift for yourself? Why then take it for me? Do you honestly think Alicia did it to please me? Of course she didn’t!
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