V + 

“Jenny’s really so homely,” said Cicily frankly, “that I think we ought to feature it.” + 

“Feature it?” questioned Flora. + 

“Yes,” said Cicily, “make her look quaint, you know; as if she were meant to be funny.” + 

“The first duty of a bridesmaid, in any case,” said Muriel, “is to look less pretty than the bride.” + 

“No one could help looking less pretty than these brides,” said Flora, with a glance from Belle to Cicily. + 

Isabel looked pleased. Jane felt herself smiling. Jenny did not seem at all insulted by her sister’s candour. + 

They were all sitting in Flora’s hat shop. They had just decided on the model for the wedding veils and were now discussing the bridesmaid’s hat. + 

Flora’s hat shop was doing a booming business. It had been just about to die of inanition three years ago when the Belgian babies came along and gave it a new lease of life. Flora had been planning to close it when the idea came to her to change it into a war charity. “Aux Armes des Alliés,” she had rechristened it, and pasted French war posters all over the cubistic designs of the coach-house. She had charged fantastic prices and had really made a great deal of money. She had photographs of all the Belgian babies she supported, on the walls of the fitting-rooms. In spite of the submarines she made semiannual trips to Paris for the hats and the photographs. She was a member of several French relief committees and so managed to get a passport. When Mr. Furness died two years before, she had given large sums to the funds for war orphans. She had made a great many French friends and was talking, now, of going to live in Paris when the war was over⁠—if it ever was. She would like a little apartment out near Passy. But now she was discussing the bridesmaid’s hat. + 

“I think,” she said critically, backing away from Jenny and looking fixedly at her plain little face and straight, blonde, bobbed hair⁠—“I think⁠—a poke bonnet. Yes, Jane! A pink poke bonnet⁠—very pale. You’re right, Cicily, she must be quaint! A hooped skirt, Isabel, a pink hooped skirt, with little garlands around it and a sweet, tight little bodice. Pale pink taffeta, don’t you think, Muriel? And a little 1860 bouquet with ribbon streamers and a white lace frill. Oh, Jenny, my dear, you’ll be charming! We’ll emphasize your angles. You’ll look like a cross-stitched design on a sampler! How old are you?” + 

“Sixteen,” said Jenny meekly. + 

“You don’t look it,” said Flora. “Do you think, Jane, that pantalettes would be going too far?” + 

Jane thought they would. + 

“I suppose you’re right,” said Flora, “though I always think a wedding should be primarily a pageant. This one will be lovely. The hot weather will bring out all the roses. What are you wearing, Jane?” + 

“What does the mother of the bride always wear?” said Jane ironically. “Beige chiffon, of course. I didn’t think I had any choice.” + 

“And Isabel, too?” said Flora critically. + 

“Well, no. Now that I think of it, Isabel is a mother of a bride and she’s wearing grey.” + 

“Muriel’s dress is lovely,” said Flora. “I’m making her hat. Mauve. Let me make yours, Jane. For Heaven’s sake, get a good one, for once!” + 

“All right,” said Jane indifferently. “I’d be glad not to have to bother about it.” + 

“We’ve got to go,” said Cicily. “We’re going down to Crichton’s with Aunt Isabel to pick out my tea-set.” + 

“I chose Belle’s yesterday,” said Muriel as she rose. + 

“It’s lovely,” said Isabel. “It seems just a moment ago that you were choosing your own.” + 

“I know,” said Muriel. “And Flora and Jane were trying on those blue bridesmaids’ dresses. They were pretty.” + 

Jane thought of Flora’s blue bridesmaid’s dress lying crumpled on her bedroom chair the morning after her mother’s death. She thought of herself hanging it up in Flora’s closet, while Flora dressed in the little black frock that Mrs. Lester had brought over. She wondered if Flora were thinking of it, too. But Flora’s face was very tranquil. + 

“Fittings for all of you, Wednesday morning,” she said. “I’ll have a beige model here, Jane, for you to look at.” + 

They all went out of the brownstone stable and stood for a moment in the old carriage court. The Furnesses’ back yard looked just as it always had. Flora had the playhouse painted every year. But the houses across Rush Street had all been rented to business firms. Dressmakers and milliners and decorators had signs over every door. The clean frilled lace curtains and evenly drawn shades in Flora’s Victorian mansion seemed strangely out of place in their commercial environment. They recalled a vanished era. Flora’s lace curtains looked just like her mother’s⁠—just as clean and just as frilly and just as Victorian. She kept the old place up beautifully. She even kept the orange tree blooming in the conservatory. But if she were going to live in Paris⁠— + 

Jane sighed. It did not seem to her just a moment ago that she had tried on Muriel’s blue bridesmaid’s dress. + 