Eight Cousins; Or, The Aunt-HillAlcott, Louisa May
General
Eight Cousins; Or, The Aunt-Hill
Alcott, Louisa May
Cousins -- Juvenile fiction; Family life -- Juvenile fiction; Orphans -- Juvenile fiction
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.
"Things have changed since your day, Aunt, and it takes time to get used
to new ways. But you, Jessie, surely like this costume better than the
dowdy things Rose has been wearing all summer. Now, be honest, and own
you do," said Mrs. Clara, bent on being praised for her work.
"Well, dear, to be _quite_ honest, then, I think it is frightful,"
answered Mrs. Jessie with a candor that caused revolving Rose to stop in
dismay.
"Hear, hear," cried a deep voice, and with a general start the ladies
became aware that the enemy was among them.
Rose blushed up to her hat brim, and stood, looking, as she felt, like a
fool, while Mrs. Clara hastened to explain.
"Of course I don't expect _you_ to like it, Alec, but I don't consider
you a judge of what is proper and becoming for a young lady. Therefore I
have taken the liberty of providing a pretty street suit for Rose. She
need not wear it if you object, for I know we promised to let you do
what you liked with the poor dear for a year."
"It is a street costume, is it?" asked the Doctor, mildly. "Do you know,
I never should have guessed that it was meant for winter weather and
brisk locomotion. Take a turn, Rosy, and let me see all its beauties and
advantages."
Rose tried to walk off with her usual free tread, but the under-skirt
got in her way, the over-skirt was so tight she could not take a long
step, and her boots made it impossible to carry herself perfectly erect.
"I haven't got used to it yet," she said, petulantly, kicking at her
train, as she turned to toddle back again.
"Suppose a mad dog or a runaway horse was after you, could you get out
of the way without upsetting, Colonel?" asked the Doctor, with a twinkle
in the eyes that were fixed on the rakish hat.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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