?" said her aunt. "There is nothing hurts a silk dress more than
sitting down in it. Now if you will hook my collar, Maria. I can do
it, but I don't like to strain the seams by reaching round, and I
didn't want to trail this dress down the cellar stairs to get Eunice
to fasten it up." Aunt Maria bewailed the weather in a deprecating
fashion while Maria was fastening the collar at the back of her
skinny neck. "I never want to find fault with the weather," said she,
"because, of course, the weather is regulated by Something higher
than we are, and it must be for our best good, but I do hate to wear
this dress out in such a storm, and I don't dare wear my cashmere.
Mrs. Ralph Wright is so particular she would be sure to think I
didn't pay her proper respect."

"You can wear my water-proof," said Maria. "I didn't wear it to-day,
you know. I didn't think the snow would do this dress any harm. The
water-proof will cover you all up."

"Well, I suppose I can, and can pin my skirt up," said Aunt Maria, in
a resigned tone. "I don't want to find fault with the weather, but I
do hate to pin up a black silk skirt."

"You can turn it right up around your waist, and fasten the braid to
your belt, and then it won't hurt it," said Maria, consolingly.

"Well, I suppose I can. Your supper is all ready, Maria. There's
bread and butter, and chocolate cake, and some oysters. I thought you
wouldn't mind making yourself a little stew. I couldn't make it
before you came, because it wouldn't be fit to eat. You know how. Be
sure the milk is hot before you put the oysters in. There is a good
fire."

"Oh yes, I know how. Don't you worry about me," said Maria, turning
up her aunt's creaseless black silk skirt gingerly. It was rather
incomprehensible to her that anybody should care so much whether a
black silk skirt was creased or not, when the terrible undertone of
emotions which underline the world, and are its creative motive, were
in existence, but Maria was learning gradually to be patient with the
small worries of others which seemed large to them, and upon which
she herself could not place much stress. She stood at the window,
when her aunt at last emerged from the house, and picked her way
through the light snow, and her mouth twitched a little at the
absurd, shapeless figure. Her Aunt Eunice had joined her, and she was
not so shapeless. She held up her dress quite fashionably on one
side, with a rather generous display of slender legs.