Lizzie went and got her best hat, and tried it on
Elizabeth to see how she would look, and produced a silk waist from her
store of garments, and a spring jacket. It wasn't very warm, it is true;
but Lizzie explained that the occasion demanded strenuous measures, and
the jacket was undoubtedly stylish, which was the main thing to be
considered. One could afford to be cold if one was stylish.
Lizzie was up early the next morning. She had agreed to put Elizabeth in
battle-array for her visit to Rittenhouse Square. Elizabeth submitted
meekly to her borrowed adornings. Her hair was brushed over her face, and
curled on a hot iron, and brushed backward in a perfect mat, and then
puffed out in a bigger pompadour than usual. The silk waist was put on
with Lizzie's best skirt, and she was adjured not to let that drag. Then
the best hat with the cheap pink plumes was set atop the elaborate
coiffure; the jacket was put on; and a pair of Lizzie's long silk gloves
were struggled into. They were a trite large when on, but to the hands
unaccustomed to gloves they were like being run into a mould.
Elizabeth stood it all until she was pronounced complete. Then she came
and stood in front of the cheap little glass, and surveyed herself. There
were blisters in the glass that twisted her head into a grotesque shape.
The hairpins stuck into her head. Lizzie had tied a spotted veil tight
over her nose and eyes. The collar of the silk waist was frayed, and cut
her neck.
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