cent just now, and yet I must have clothes. You are such a genius
for planning and working wonders, that I throw myself upon you
and ask, ‘How shall I make a spring wardrobe out of nothing?’ ”
“Let me see the ‘nothing’ before I advise. Bring out every rag you
‘ve got, and we ‘ll see what can be done,” said Polly, looking as if
she enjoyed the prospect, for she had a great deal of that feminine
faculty which we call “knack,” and much practice had increased it.
Fanny brought out her “rags” and was astonished to see how many
she had, for chair, sofa, bed, and bureau were covered, and still
Maud, who was burrowing in the closets, kept crying, “Here ‘s
another.”
“There ‘s a discouraging heap of rubbish for you!” said Fan, as she
added a faded muslin to the last pile.
“Now, to me your ‘rubbish’ looks very encouraging, because there
is good material there, and not much worn-out finery, that ‘s my
detestation, for you can’t do anything with it. Let me see, five
bonnets. Put the winter ones away till autumn, rip up the summer
ones, and out of three old ones we ‘ll get a pretty new one, if my
eyes don’t deceive me.”
“I ‘ll rip, and then do let me see you make a bonnet, it must be so
interesting,” said Maud, whipping out her scissors and eagerly
beginning to reduce a shabby little bonnet to its original elements.
“Now the dresses,” continued Polly, who had rapidly sorted out the
piles.
“Will you have the goodness to look at this?” said Fan, holding up
a gray street suit faded past cure.
Polly whisked it wrong side out, and showing the clean, bright
fabric, said, with a triumphant wave, “Behold your new suit; fresh
trimming and less of it will finish you off as smart as ever.”
“I never wore a turned dress in my life; do you suppose people will
know it?” said Fan doubtfully.
“What if they do? It won’t hurt you. Not one in a hundred will ever
think anything about your dress, except that it is pretty. I ‘ve worn
turned and dyed gowns all my days, and it don’t seem to have
alienated my friends, or injured my constitution.”
“That it has n’t; I ‘m a goose, Polly, and I ‘ll get over the feeling that
it ‘s sort of disgraceful to be poor and have to economize. We ‘ll
turn the gray, and I ‘ll wear it bravely.”
“Then it will be more becoming than ever. Oh, here ‘s the pretty
violet silk. That will make a lovely suit,” cried Polly, going on
with the review.
“Don’t see how two draggled skirts and a stained waist can be
transformed into a whole rig,” said Fan, sitting on the bed, with her
garments strewn about her in various attitudes of limp
despondency.
“Well, ma’am, my plan is this,” began Polly, imitating Mrs.
O’Grady’s important tone, and bad grammar: “Gores is out, and
plaits is in; therefore, as the top of this skirt is quite fresh, we will
take off the ruffles, turn it upside down, and leave it plain. The
upper skirt will be made scanter, and finished with a frill; then the
waist can be refreshed with the best parts of these wide flounces,
and out of those new bits we will concoct a hat. The black lace
Maud has just taken off the green one will do to edge the violet,
and with your nice silk mantilla you are complete, don’t you see?”
“I don’t quite see it yet, but I have firm faith that I shall in time,
and consider my calling costume finished,” said Fanny, getting
more and more interested as she saw her condemned wardrobe
coming out fresh again under Polly’s magic knack.
“There are two; then that piqu, is all right, if you cut the tail off
the jacket and change the trimming a bit. The muslins only need
mending and doing up to look as well as ever; you ought not to put
them away torn and soiled, my child. The two black silks will be
good stand-bys for years. If I were you, I ‘d have a couple of neat,