Chapter 9

WHITE MUSLIN.

As the good little spinster was arraying herself on this particular
evening, having laid upon the bed the greater portion of her modest
splendor, she went to her wardrobe, and took therefrom the scored bandbox
containing her best cap. All the ladies of Slowbridge wore caps; and all
being respectfully plagiarized from Lady Theobald, without any reference
to age, size, complexion, or demeanor, the result was sometimes a little
trying. Lady Theobald's head-dresses were of a severe and bristling
order. The lace of which they were composed was induced by some ingenious
device to form itself into aggressive quillings, the bows seemed lined
with buckram, the strings neither floated nor fluttered.

"To a majestic person the style is very appropriate," Miss Belinda had
said to Octavia that very day; "but to one who is not so, it is rather
trying. Sometimes, indeed, I have _almost_ wished that Miss Chickie would
vary a _little_ more in her designs."

Perhaps the sight of the various articles contained in two of the five
trunks had inspired these doubts in the dear old lady's breast: it is
certain, at least, that, as she took the best cap up, a faint sigh
fluttered upon her lips.

"It is very large for a small person," she said. "And I am not at all
sure that amber is becoming to me."

And just at that moment there came a tap at the door, which she knew was
from Octavia.

She laid the cap back, in some confusion at being surprised in a moment
of weakness.

"Come in, my love," she said.

Octavia pushed the door open, and came in. She had not dressed yet, and
had on her wrapper and slippers, which were both of quilted gray silk,
gayly embroidered with carnations. But Miss Belinda had seen both wrapper
and slippers before, and had become used to their sumptuousness: what she
had not seen was the trifle the girl held in her hand. "See here," she
said. "See what I have been making for you!"

She looked quite elated, and laughed triumphantly.

"I did not know I could do it until I tried," she said. "I had seen some
in New York, and I had the lace by me. And I have enough left to make
ruffles for your neck and wrists. It's Mechlin."

"My dear!" exclaimed Miss Belinda. "My dear!"

Octavia laughed again.

"Don't you know what it is?" she said. "It isn't like a Slowbridge cap;
but it's a cap, nevertheless. They wear them like this in New York, and I
think they are ever so much prettier."

It was true that it was not like a Slowbridge cap, and was also true that
it was prettier. It was a delicate affair of softly quilled