Fashion and Physiology

“Please, sir, I guess you’d better step up right away, or it will be too late, for I heard Miss Rose say she knew you wouldn’t like it, and she’d never dare to let you see her.”

Phebe said this as she popped her head into the study, where Dr. Alec sat reading a new book.

“They are at it, are they?” he said, looking up quickly, and giving himself a shake, as if ready for a battle of some sort.

“Yes, sir, as hard as they can talk, and Miss Rose don’t seem to know what to do, for the things are ever so stylish, and she looks elegant in ’em; though I like her best in the old ones,” answered Phebe.

“You are a girl of sense. I’ll settle matters for Rosy, and you’ll lend a hand. Is everything ready in her room, and are you sure you understand how they go?”

“Oh, yes, sir; but they are so funny! I know Miss Rose will think it’s a joke,” and Phebe laughed as if something tickled her immensely.

“Never mind what she thinks so long as she obeys. Tell her to do it for my sake, and she will find it the best joke she ever saw. I expect to have a tough time of it, but we’ll win yet,” said the Doctor, as he marched upstairs with the book in his hand, and an odd smile on his face.

There was such a clatter of tongues in the sewing-room that no one heard his tap at the door, so he pushed it open and took an observation. Aunt Plenty, Aunt Clara, and Aunt Jessie were all absorbed in gazing at Rose, who slowly revolved between them and the great mirror, in a full winter costume of the latest fashion.

“Bless my heart! worse even than I expected,” thought the Doctor, with an inward groan, for, to his benighted eyes, the girl looked like a trussed fowl, and the fine new dress had neither grace, beauty, nor fitness to recommend it.

The suit was of two peculiar shades of blue, so arranged that patches of light and dark distracted the eye. The upper skirt was tied so lightly back that it was impossible to take a long step, and the under one was so loaded with plaited frills that it “wobbled”—no other word will express it—ungracefully, both fore and aft. A bunch of folds was gathered up just below the waist behind, and a great bow rode a-top. A small jacket of the same material was adorned with a high ruff at the back, and laid well open over the breast, to display some lace and a locket. Heavy fringes, bows, puffs, ruffles, and revers finished off the dress, making one’s head ache to think of the amount of work wasted, for not a single graceful line struck the eye, and the beauty of the material was quite lost in the profusion of ornament.

A high velvet hat, audaciously turned up in front, with a bunch of pink roses and a sweeping plume, was cocked over one ear, and, with her curls braided into a club at the back of her neck, Rose’s head looked more like that of a dashing young cavalier than a modest little girl’s. High-heeled boots tilted her well forward, a tiny muff pinioned her arms, and a spotted veil, tied so closely over her face that her eyelashes were rumpled by it, gave the last touch of absurdity to her appearance.

“Now she looks like other girls, and as I like to see her,” Mrs. Clara was saying, with an air of great satisfaction.

“She does look like a fashionable young lady, but somehow I miss my little Rose, for children dressed like children in my day,” answered Aunt Plenty, peering through her glasses with a troubled look, for she could not imagine the creature before her ever sitting in her lap, running to wait upon her, or making the house gay with a child’s blithe presence.