Then, about four o'clock, the ladies made their toilette; Mrs. Hubbard was dressed in a smart new calico, with a cap, made by Elinor, and was then seated in the best rocking-chair. As for Patsey, herself, she could not think of wearing the elegant new dress, Uncle Josie's present--that was much too fine; she preferred what had now become her second-best--a black silk, which looked somewhat rusty and well-worn. To tell the truth, this gown had seen good service; it had been not only turned, but re-turned--having twice gone through the operation of ripping and sponging; and doubtful as the fact may appear to the reader, yet we have Miss Patsey's word for it, that a good silk will bear twice turning, but then it must be a silk of a first-rate quality, like her own. It had been, indeed, the standing opinion of the family for the last five years, that this particular dress was still "as good as new." As for the changes in fashion that this black silk had outlived, who shall tell them? It was purchased in the days of short waists and belts, "gig-ohs," and "pal-reens," as they were called by the country damsel, whose scissors first shaped the glossy "gro de nap." Waists, long, longer, longest, succeeded; sleeves, full, fuller, fullest, followed; belts were discarded, boddices {sic} began to appear; still Miss Patsey's silk kept up with the changes, or rather, did not entirely lose sight of them. If you had seen her at a little tea-party at Wyllys-Roof, wearing this silk, "nearly as good as new," with a neat and pretty collar of Elinor's work, you would have been obliged to confess that her dress answered a rule given by a celebrated philosopher--you would not have remarked it. Had you chanced to meet her of a Sunday, in Mr. Wyllys's carriage--the Wyllyses always stopped on their way to St. John's Church, at Longbridge, to offer a couple of seats to the Hubbards, who were set down at the door of their father's old Meeting-house--had you seen her of a Sunday, with a neat straw hat, and the black silk gown, you would have been obliged to acknowledge that her dress had the double merit, by no means common, of according with her circumstances, and the sacred duties she was going to fulfil; the devotion of her neighbours would not be disturbed by admiration of her toilette.
{"burn some coffee" = roast some coffee; "gig-oh" = a puffed "gigot" or "leg of mutton" sleeve; "pal-reen" = "pelerine", a cape or mantle; "gro de nap" = "gros de Naples", a weave of silk with a corded effect (French)}
At five o'clock, Miss Patsey's company began to assemble; the Wyllyses were the first to appear; then came Mrs. Taylor, Mrs. Van Horne, and Mrs. Clapp; Adeline excused herself, she thought it a bore, Charlie was not worth flirting with. The doctor, Mr. Taylor, and Mr. Clapp, were expected after tea. And a pleasant, good-natured evening it proved to be. Miss Patsey's coffee was excellent; the little black girl, engaged for the occasion, performed her duties to admiration. Mrs. Taylor thought that she had scarcely passed such a quiet, pleasant afternoon, since the halcyon days before her husband was a rich man; she was much interested in discussing with Miss Patsey, and Miss Wyllys, and Mrs. Van Horne, various recipes for making bread, hoe-cake, and other good things. As for Elinor, she told Charlie she had left her work at home, on purpose that she might have time enough to look over all his sketches--everything he had to show, old and new. The drawings, and several oil-paintings were accordingly produced, and looked over by the young people, and Mr. Wyllys, who had taken a chair by the table, and joined them. Elinor knew nothing of drawing, but her general taste was good; she asked many questions about the details of the art, and was amused and interested by Charlie's remarks.
{"left her work at home" = the knitting or similar hand-work engaged in by ladies while they conversed}
"Show us everything, Charlie," said Mr. Wyllys. "I befriended your genius, you know, in the days of the slate and compound interest; and, of course, I shall think it due to my own discernment to admire all your works."
"Of course, you are not afraid of my criticisms," said Elinor; "I don't know enough to be severe."
"People who know little, my child, generally make very severe critics," said Mr. Wyllys.
"When they know LITTLE, grandpapa; but mine is honest, humble ignorance. I know nothing at all on the subject."
"Do you remember, Miss Elinor, that Hogarth said anybody possessing common sense was a better judge of a picture than a connoisseur?"
{"Hogarth" = William Hogarth (1697-1764), English artist and printmaker.}
"Did Hogarth say so?--I shall begin to feel qualified to find fault. That is a very pretty group of children, grandpapa."
"Very pretty;--some of Miss Patsey's little people. And here is another, quite natural and graceful, Charlie."
"I never see my sister's little scholars but I am tempted to sketch them. Children are such a charming study; but I am never satisfied with what I do; a picture of children that is not thoroughly childlike is detestable. Those are mere scratches."
"What are these faint outlines of figures, with dashes of colouring here and there?" asked Elinor.
"Oh, those are mere fancies, made entirely for amusement. They are rude sketches of my own ideas of celebrated pictures that I have never seen, of course; only as exercises for idle moments--one way of practising attitudes of figures, and composition. I keep them more as a lesson of humility than anything else, for me to remember my own poor conceits when I see the originals, if that happy day ever come."
"I thought you gave yourself up entirely to landscapes, Charlie--do you think seriously of pursuing both branches?" asked Mr. Wyllys.
"No, sir; I give the preference to landscapes; I find, at least, that field quite wide enough. It seems scarcely possible to unite both, they are so different in character and detail, and require such a different course of study."
