"Oh, you are invited, then!" cried Mrs. Macon with satisfaction, as Sara
explained her errand. "I was sure you would be."
"But how could you think so? I, a fisherman's daughter."
"You, Sara Olmstead, the writer who is already being noticed in the
literary world! Why shouldn't you be asked, I'd like to know?"
"But, dear Mrs. Macon, what shall I wear? how shall I act?"
"Ah! now you are talking sense. 'What shall you wear?' Sara, you must
have a white dress; something with long, soft folds, and--yes--and
trimmed with swan's-down. That will be so becoming."
"Yes, and cost a small fortune!"
"No, not as much as you think. A cashmere will do, and that reminds me,
I'm to have a dressmaker here the first of the week; she shall give me
an extra day or two, and make your dress, then I can be sure it is all
right. And never mind about the swan's-down; for I have some on a dress,
I think almost enough, that I have only worn once. She shall rip it off
for you to wear on this great occasion."
"O Mrs. Macon, how good you are!"
"Good? Why, this is fun for me. You must go with us, of course. Yes, and
we'll ask the Grandets to go in our carriage too; 'twill make five, but
no matter; you're little, and can squeeze in between the two gentlemen
for that short distance: and, fortunately, cashmere doesn't show mussing
badly.
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