A BLUE COTTON FROCK.

Otago Witness, Issue 4029, 2 June 1931, Page 77

A BLUE COTTON FROCK.

By

Elizabeth Macpherson.

Miss Eliza Gregg laid down her work and, moving nearer the window, she took up the newspaper “ just for five minutes.” After all, one must see what wa.s happening in the world. She skimmed the “births, marriages, and deaths. Then she turned to the'general news, and read how another air record had been made, and of a mighty crisis in larliament. The Court and fashionable news next received her attention, and she noted that the King had been holding a levee, that a certain exalted ; person had gone to Scotland, and that Mrs Broadleaf, wife of Anthony Broadleaf the motor king, had gone to the south of France for a “ rest cure.” f “ 9^ ow „)Y ,lat ’ s sll ° wanting a rest cure tor? Eliza .demanded, for she had acquired the lonely woman’s habit of speaking to herself. “ Rest cure indeed! These folks don’t know the meaning of hard work. Too little to do; too much money to spend. ‘ Fed-up-ness ’—that’s what s wrong with them.” She mave her head an emphatic nod, and turned to the next page, which gave the news of the money market. The dressmaker of Broomfield was no ordinary woman, believe me , Just then there came a timid knock to her half-opened door. “ Come in,” she cried; that was the kind of woman she ?- a i 5 77° ne "'?° conld sit in hpr h °use and bid those who knocked to enter, fearin" the face of no caller. ° Hey door opened wider, and so did Eliza s eyes, for her visitor was a strange lady, beautifully dressed. Well did Eliza know that the sinfully simplelookmg coat and hat must have cost a fortune. There was about the ladv .herself a timid gentle air which did not seem natural to the wearer of such costly garments. Her air was almost one of apology. She was a sweet-faced girl with rather wistful blue eyes—the kind that have curly black lashes—and her hair was curly too, but, strangely enough; it was fair. As she stood timidly in the doorway, she reminded one of a shy child whom one must “mother.” The selfsufficiency of the modern girl was not hers. Eliza liked her all the better because of this. . :- •

Good morning,” she said, in a voice which matched her pretty face—and when you come to think of it, quite a lot of folks have voices which don't match their faces! “ You are Miss Gre<r" the dressmaker? ” Eliza admitted it, and invited her to take a seat. She became conscious of a sweet perfume as her visitor came nearer her. It was the kind of perfume tluit lives in cut-pflass bottles and costs pounds and pounds • per ounce. Eliza frowned. She also/ wondered what the girl wanted. Possibly to run a tuck in some silken “ undie ” or to thread fresh ribbon in her camisole—work that she could perfectly well do herself. Eliza made up her mind she would say, “ No.”

Meantime her visitor had unfastened a little parcel, and had shaken out its contents. “ What do you think of this for a frock?” she asked, handing Eliza a length of blue print. It had a pattern of white daisies scattered over it. The colour was rather an uncommon shade of blue, and was an exact match to the lady’s eyes. Eliza noticed this, also that the white daisies with their shy golden centres were not unlike the lady’s own face in their expression. What she said, however, was: “ It’s difficult to get a good cut with a material like this.” She judged the print would have cost about a shilling the yard. “ And just now everything depends on the cut of a frock.” “ But I don’t want anything elaborate,” said her new customer with almost childish eagerness, “just a simple thing like this.” She took out of her handbag, a crocodile and silver affair, a fashion plate. “Look,” she said, “I want a frock like that, with sleeves just to the elbow and a white collar and turned-back cuffs of organdie.” Eliza studied the picture. “ That frock is five years behind the times.” Her tones were stern. “ I haven’t made a frock with a skirt like that since I used to make them for Lady Fiddes’s young housekeeper. She was a trained cook and a lady, too.” Eliza seemed to think this rather an unusual combination. Her visitor nodded. “ I think I was trained in the same college,” she said, “ only I went in for gardening and poultry.” Eliza sighed. Truly the world was upside down when folks had to go to a college to learn to keep hens or to cook a dinner. She shrugged her shoulders and gave her head a shake. Then she asked with rather awful sarcasm if her visitor still “kept hens?” The lady laughed and said “No ” —not since she was married. “ But about the frock,” she went on, “do you think you could have it ready for me soon ? ” Miss Gregg at her sternest said “ No,” and asked her visitor to glance at, the pile of uncut cloth which was heaped up on a side table. “ Perhaps by the end of the week ” —she said with the proper amount of hesitation—“ or the beginning of the next ” She almost laughed at the consternation in the girl’s face. “ But, Mrs Green, who sent me here, said she was sure you’d oblige me, r ’ it’s awfully important! ” She clapped her hands and looked beseechingly mto the other’s face. “ Don’t you think you could manage it by, say, Saturday afternoon? ” Miss Gregg had every intention of doing the frock by Saturday, but for purely

professional purposes, she still hesitated. “This is Monday,” she said. “Did Mrs Green tell you that she expects her own new dress before Sunday? Are you lodging with her ? ” “ Yes, and she said she was sure you’d- ” Elzia succumbed with becoming grace. “Very well, then, I’ll try. Mrs Green is an old’custoiner of mine and a good one. When every one else is buying ‘ ready-mades,’ she comes to me, summer and winter, to get her dresses made to measure.” “ That’s very kind,” said Mrs Green’s lodger and forbore to add that owing to Mrs Green’s bounteous charm it would be impossible to get a ready-made, even one labled “ 0.0.5.” to fit her. But there was a twinkle in her eye which Eliza noted and responded to, and after two people have shared a joke they feel as if they were old friends. Eliza reached for her tape measure — and. with her mouth full of pins, proceeded to take measurements, many and intricate. As she did so she marvelled afresh at the lady’s coming to her, for Eliza had no illusions about her own work. Good, honest sewing she would give, firm seams, well sewn-in fasteners and elastic, but as for style or chic — whatever that might be—she hadn’t a particle of it, and she knew it. She was just a plain country dressmaker; indeed, since the vogue of the ready-made, she often felt she was only a “ fitter ” and a person for altering other people’s work. “ I came to Mrs Green’s for a little rest,” said the lady. 1 Eliza spat out a mouthful of pins and said: “Bend your elbow.” “ She’s awfully kind to me. I used to know her long ago. When daddy died and I had to earn my own living ” “Keeping hens?” Eliza insisted on thinking this a joke. “ They weren’t my own hens even; they belonged to Lord Hawthorn, and I took care of part of his garden, too,” she added as if she were triumphant at the memory. Eliza sniffed and told her to straighten her shoulders. When the last measurement was taken, the lady offered to pay, an offer which Eliza waved aside, and told her to come for a “ fit-on ” on Wednesday. She was inclined to boggle about the sunbonnet, till her new customer assured her that it was if anything simpler than the blue cotton frock.

The following day, by the strangest, coincidence in the world, Mrs Green from Home Farm dropped in to see about her new dress. “ And how did you like the lady I sent to you, Eliza? ” she asked. But Eliza had not been the village dressmaker for nearly a quarter of a century without learning to hold her tongue. She was always much better at getting news -than at giving it.

“ You know her well? ” she asked. “Is that waist band too tight?” “ Yes, I have known her since she was a tiny thing. You can give me a little more room—say a quarter of an inch. I will not be squeezed, Eliza, and you might know that by this time.” “ I might, indeed,” Eliza said dryly.

“ Yes, I have known Molly Craven since she was an infant. Poor little thing, her mother died when she was tiny, and her father seemed to go through his money—they had a big farm, and you know there’s no place you can waste money like on a farm, especially if you go in for expensive experiments and there’s a succession of bad seasons. When he died Molly went to Fulman’s College, where young ladies are taught housekeeping and poultry keeping and dairying ” Eliza snorted. “A lot of nonsense.” “ I used to think that too,” Mrs Green said, “ till I found out my mistake. Why, I get more money for'my poultry and eggs now than I get for my pigs. The days when people thought that any one could keep hens arc gone. And the college is helping us to get better results.”

Eliza had not bargained for this spirited defence of a college to teach such homely subjects, and now she turned the conversation to a more pacific topic. “ What’s the lady’s name? ” she asked. Mrs Green stepped out of her skirt and stood still in thought. “ I’m blessed if I can remember,” she admitted. “Of course I just call her Molly. But I know she made a good match. I think her husband has big iron works, or is it motor works?” she added vaguely. “ Site has plenty of money.”. “ One had only to look at her to see that,” Eliza agreed. It was when Mrs Green was taking her departure that she threw out a remark which gave Eliza the key to the whole situation. “ She’s expecting her husband on Saturday afternoon, perhaps. Site’s not sure, because he’s awfully busy, but she hopes——” “ So do I,” thought Eliza, and resolved that that blue cotton frock with sunbonnet to match would be ready and would have her best work put into them, come what would. When Wednesday brought her her new customer for the “ fit-on ” she thought the girl looked rather downcast. “ I was half hoping my husband might come to see me for the week-end,” she said, trying to speak carelessly, “but I had a postcard from him this morning and he’s afraid he can’t manage the time.” “Is he very busy ? ” <

“ He’s always very busy,” said the girl, a little bitterly. “I don’t think it’s fair that a mau who cannot spare even, a day for his wife should have a wife! ” She spoke banteringly, but anyone could see that, underneath the care-

less manner, there were the hurt feelings of the neglected wife. “ He’s going to send me a new motor car,” she went on; “but he can’t wait to write a letter, only a horrid little postcard.” “ Well, surely that’s a glorious gift,” Eliza cried.

The girl nodded, absently. “ I’d rather have more of his time and less of his money,” she said, as if thinking aloud.

On Saturday morning, Eliza had frock and sunbonnet ready and lying in state waiting their owner. Yielding to some strange impulse, she asked the girl if she would go into her bedroom and slip on the frock and sunbonnet just to satisfy her that both were all right. Molly laughed, but her eyes were clouded. The new motor was coming, and somehow a cotton frock seemed out of place in a grand new motor car. Still—if Miss Gregg wished it ? Miss Gregg did wish it, so Molly vanished into the little bedroom. It was as well she did, too, for next minute, there was a firm tap at the door. “'Come in,” cried Eliza, as usual. There stepped in, promptly, a strange young man. He had a thin dark face lighted by bright dark eyes and flashing white teeth. A most personable young man, Eliza decided, as she asked him bis business. Cap in hand, he stood, the morning sunshine on his hair—he had a kink in his hair. His words were prosaic enough, however. Could the lady oblige him with a jug of water for his car which had got overheated, and would she tell him the way to the Home Farm? It was at that very identical moment Eliza had the brain-wave of her life. “Just take a seat for a moment,” she said. “ and I’ll fetch the water.” Now Eliza’s scullery and water tap were at the back of her house. Whythen—can you explain to me? —did she go into the bedroom and whisper to a girl, an adorably pretty girl, in a blue cotton frock with a sunbonnet to match, that some one was wanting to see her? Eliza did that very thing! She made no attempt to fetch the water, either! Instead, she peeped out for the tiniest glimpse as she pushed the girl out of the bedroom. She saw the young man suddenly springing to his feet and with the cry of “ Molly,” enveloping the blue cotton frock—the girl inside it—she beard a cry—glad, hungry, longing, happy-, as they held each other—and then Eliza, being in truth a very great lady, shut the door and sat, as still as a mouse, on her bed. Later—considerably- later—Molly came end asked her if she was coming out. Eliza noted with satisfaction that the sunbonnet was hanging down her back and that the frock looked as if it needed to he ironed out again. But she said nothing. When Molly kissed her and presented her to her husband. Miss Gregg said primly that she had done nothing—she did not know what the lady was speaking about. “ And to tell you the truth, I don't even know your name.” Eliza added with an air of triumph, as if this proved very conclusively how little she had done in the delicate situation. The young couple looked at each other; then they laughed. “My name is Broadleaf,” Molly said, “and if you read the papers—which I hope you don’t ' do—you’ll see that I’m supposed to have gone to the South of France for a ‘rest cure.’ But 1 didn’t want to rest, though the doctor said so. What I wanted ” She stopped and gave her husband a lov- ’ ing look. “The little blue cotton frock?” he said.

“And—and—you. Don’t you remember I was wearing one just like this when we first met? I thought that if I got another——” “Miss Gregg cleared her throat, rather noisily. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll fetch the water for the motor,” she said. Was there a twinkle in her eye? They- thought so. “Don’t hurry,” cried Anthony Broadleaf. “ I have lots of time. Presently we’ll go out and look at that new car. But there’s no hurry.” —Weekly Scotsman.