"They were tired to death"--they whose feet scarcely touched the pavement, and who had servants at every call. "The party of last night was so stupid!" "The ball of Thursday wouldn't be worth the trouble of dressing for." "What should they wear? Miss Stringer must tell them." "Did she know Rushton's engagement was broken with Bell Hamilton? Her ill health, it was said; but every one knew, because he had been flirting so all winter with Mrs. McCord. But then she had such a brute of a husband, Coleman McCord, who could blame her? He was devoted to the southern beauty, Miss Legree." "Was lemon color quite out of date? and should they get crimson fuchsias with gold tips for the wreath?"
Mrs. Murden was so deep in moral reflections suggested by this style of conversation, that she did not perceive Miss Stringer was ready for her at first. She was almost sorry when the moment arrived, for she dreaded an interview with this maker of fine ladies, who dictated to them so coolly, and was so besieged, and coaxed, and petted by them. The lady's distant, preoccupied manner added to her embarrassment, when, finding she had an unoccupied half hour, she proposed to fit her forthwith, and asked Mrs. Murden into the inner apartment, with its curtains and lounges, its cheval glass reflecting the little woman's figure from head to foot, and reminding her that the dress she wore was at least two inches shorter than the flowing robes of the birds of paradise who had just taken their departure. Silly little body, she felt so awkward and old-fashioned, and wished in her heart she was in her own back parlor, with Miss Johns and her heart-shaped pin-cushion. She was quite a mirror of fashion to Miss Johns, who was indebted to Mrs. Murden for half her new sleeves and trimmings, caught by those observing black eyes, and shaped out at home with the aid of old newspapers. But here it was the mantuamaker's place to dictate.
"A basque, of course, or is it an evening-dress? What name?"
"Murden--Mrs. Murden." And she knew perfectly well it was one entirely foreign to the ears that caught it, low as was her tone. But when Miss Stringer came to see that silk her opinion might change. Mrs. Murden longed to have it brought forth and note the effect.