“Oh, Lucy, is that you? I was just wishing for you,” exclaimed Emily Sutherland to her sister, Mrs. Coolidge. “We are busy discussing our dresses for the Fancy Ball. What character do you mean to take? Have you decided on your dress?”

“No, I have not, Emily.”

“Well, it’s high time to begin to think about it. Every milliner and mantua-maker in town will be full of work soon. I told Madame Dudevant yesterday she must consider herself engaged to make my dress by the 22d. You had better bespeak her, too, or you will find yourself too late if you put it off.”

“I shall wear something so simple it’s not worth while having it made by her,” replied Mrs. Coolidge. “I shall go as the ‘White Lady,’ or?—”

“Not the ‘White Lady;’ for Heaven’s sake,” interrupted Emily, “that’s so hackneyed. Every body who can muster an old book-muslin, and a few yards of tulle, goes as the ‘White Lady.’”

“Well, a novice, or a Druid priestess,” continued Mrs. Coolidge.

“That’s just as bad,” pursued her sister impatiently. “No, no, you and Tom must go in character together; you as Titania, and he as Bully Bottom. You are so light, and slight, and fair, you will look Titania very well; and Tom will make a grand Bully—so full of fun and humor. You would contrast beautifully. You must hang upon his arm, and ‘stick musk roses in his sleek smooth head, and pinch his large, fair ears,’ for it’ll hardly do to ‘kiss’ them, and call him ‘your gentle joy.’ I am sure you could do that to the life.”

Mrs. Coolidge smiled, for the idea caught her fancy; but then she looked graver as she said,

“But those would be expensive dresses, Emily. I merely meant to wear something that would entitle me to an entrance. If the invitations did not say ‘costume de rigueur,’ I should not think of a fancy dress at all.”

“Oh, what nonsense,” said Emily. “The expense is not much; I am sure Tom would not mind it. I’ll speak to him about it,” she continued; for she had been so accustomed to hear her father scold at expense, that she concluded, of course, her sister’s objections must now have reference to her husband, and that consequently if she spoke first to him, she was doing Lucy a great service.

“No, pray don’t put it in his head,” said the young wife eagerly, “for I fear he would be so taken by the idea, he would not stop to count the cost.”

“Well, then,” said Emily, opening her eyes very wide, “why need you?”

“Because, Emily, as we are young people just beginning, I think we ought to?—”

“To be patterns,” said Emily. “Well and good, my dear, only don’t begin until after this ball, if you please.”

“I don’t want to set up as a pattern,” said Lucy, “but still I would not wish to do any thing extravagant.”

“There’s no great extravagance in these dresses, I am sure,” replied Emily. “That’s one reason I selected them for you and Tom; and then I thought you would like to go in character together. I really flattered myself I had hit sentiment and economy with one stone beautifully. But you make as long a face about it as if I had proposed King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba to you.”

“What should Titania’s dress be?” inquired Mrs. Coolidge thoughtfully.

“Oh, something very light. Tulle, trimmed with a little silver—nothing is cheaper than that, you know,” answered Emily.

“As it is only for one night,” pursued Lucy, “I would not feel authorized to go to much expense. If it were a dress that could ever be worn again?—”

“You never can, or never ought at least, wear any tulle dress over twice; and therefore it does not make much difference about its being made in costume,” said Emily carelessly. “Tom’s dress, you know, is the simplest thing in the world. It’s only a weaver’s apron, &c. The ass’s head he can easily have made; he’ll get it for a trifle at any toy-store, I should think. Ah, there’s Tom,” cried Emily, as she saw her brother-in-law entering the hall. “Here, Mr. Coolidge, come here,” she called. “Come in and persuade this perverse wife of yours into being reasonable. Here I’ve been ransacking my head for suitable characters for her and you for the Fancy Ball; and just as I had hit upon the very thing for both of you, and expecting your joint vote of thanks, and compliments for the brilliancy of my idea, she puts on a grave face, and makes all sorts of objections. Don’t you think she would make a pretty Titania, and you a beautiful, broad-shouldered Bully Bottom? I’ll tell you what, you shall not be lost to the world as Bully; if she wont be your Titania, I will, though I don’t think I will look the character very well, and beside?—”

“Why Lucy,” said her husband, “I don’t think you could possibly find any thing prettier; and really, Emily, I will give you my vote of thanks at once for my share of it. Bully always was a favorite of mine. You see I am more grateful than Lucy. However,” continued he, turning to his wife, “If you don’t like it, ‘I am agreeable,’ as country people say, to any thing you prefer.”

“There’s nothing else that I prefer,” she replied, “only I thought the Dame Blanche would be more economical.”

“I veto the Dame Blanche,” cried Emily before Coolidge had time to speak. “It’s just one of those things that are very pretty the first time; but it’s as old and common now as possible. Besides, as you are a bride, Lucy, people will expect something from you; you always have dressed well as Lucy Sutherland?—”

“I should be sorry if Lucy Coolidge appeared to less advantage now,” said Coolidge, taking Emily’s hint, and a little piqued by the insinuation. “I think, my dear, that would not be paying me much of a compliment,” he added good-naturedly, for he was the best tempered person in the world. “Come, if you like the dress, make up your mind at once. And, Emily, as you are it seems grand costumer-general on the occasion, perhaps you will be so kind as to lend me your aid afterward. Will you go with me when I look for some artiste capable of executing Bully’s head and ears?”

“With pleasure, as soon as I finish with your lady wife here. Now for Titania, Lucy.”

“I have a white satin dress, Emily, that I think would do for the under petticoat,” said Lucy.

“White satin,” said Emily musingly. “No, that wont do—it should be silk. Besides you’ve worn your satin, and the first thing in these dresses, and indeed in every other, is that they should be fresh and clean.”

“Certainly,” said Mr. Coolidge. “I don’t understand much of lady’s dress, but that much I do. Nothing I hate so much as to see a woman in dirty finery; and pure fresh white is the prettiest thing she can wear. If you ladies dressed to please us gentlemen, you would never appear in any thing else. However, I don’t mean to interfere in what you’ll say, Emily, I don’t understand; only, Lucy, whatever you do decide on, let it be fresh and clean.”

“There Lucy, now I have your husband on my side, you have nothing to say,” cried Emily. “And to be fresh and clean, things must be new. You men understand effect,” she continued, turning to her brother-in-law, “though you are not much at details. And now let us be off to Madame Dudevant’s; I want to see some costumes she was to have in this morning—and you can speak to her about your dress at the same time.”

“And you think I must have Madame Dudevant,” said Lucy inquiringly. “She is such an extortionate creature; I could get Henrietta in the house for a couple of days?—”

“For pity’s sake don’t think of Henrietta, Lucy,” said Emily; “there’s no use in getting new materials if she is to spoil them. And what signifies a few dollars more or less in the making; for after all it’s the fit and air of a dress that gives it all its effect. Dudevant asks rather more, perhaps, than others—but really she is worth it. She is the only person in town who knows how to do any thing.”

“That’s true,” said Lucy plaintively.

“What makes you sigh so, Lucy,” said her husband smiling, “over Madame Dudevant’s superiority?”

“Oh, that’s just Lucy,” said Emily laughing. “She always was so. She thinks any thing will do for her until it comes to the point, and then nothing but the best satisfies her. With all her scruples, she always ends where I begin. But then she has such a plaintive way of going to work, that she always thinks, and what is worse, you all agree with her, that she is so much more economical than I?—”

“Now Emily,” said Lucy expostulatingly, “I am sure I would be glad to go as the ‘White Lady,’ if you and Tom would let me.”

“So you think, my dear—but I know how it would be; you would keep Henrietta for a week in the house botching up a dress, which, of course, would be a fright; and then, just at the last minute, you would come to the conclusion it would never do, and go off in a hurry to Dudevant’s to order something decent—and so, besides your dress, you would have your failure to pay for.”

Coolidge laughed outright at this picture of his wife’s economy, and said,

“Well, Lucy, as we can’t afford double expenses, I think you’ll have to give up what Emily calls your ‘failure.’”

“These ‘failures’ are mighty expensive things, let me tell you,” said Emily seriously; “and I’ll just give you this warning, Tom, your wife is very fond of them.”

“Now, Emily, say no more,” said Lucy entreatingly, “and I’ll do any thing you want.”

“Well, the carriage has been waiting this half hour,” said her sister. “Do you come back to dinner,” said she to her brother-in-law, “for I mean to keep Lucy to-day, and then we will settle this evening about Bully’s head and ears, &c.”

So they drove to Madame Dudevant’s. Emily gave a rapid sketch of the character her sister was to take, which the Frenchwoman caught with a tact and quickness that would have been enough to make a slow, sober Englishwoman think she had been a reader of Shakspeare from her youth.

“Ah, I understand—something very light and pretty; two, tree tunics—a light broderie on each.”

“Would not a little silver lace,” said Mrs. Coolidge, looking anxious, “do, madame?”

“Silver lace?” said the Frenchwoman interrogatively. “What you call silver lace, madame? You like tinsel?” with a shrug of such ineffable contempt, that Lucy colored spite of herself.

“A light embroidery would be much handsomer, Lucy,” said Emily. “I don’t like silver lace myself, it has a sort of livery look.”

“Just so,” said the queen of mantua-makers, now directing her remarks to Emily, “what you call vulgar. If madame will have tree tunics with a delicat broderie, de sleeve de same, I have a young woman who work beautiful?—”

Lucy looked distressed, and said, “I don’t want to go to much expense, madame.”

“Expense! oh no, madame, it so light it cost noting at all.”

“You had better leave it to madame, Lucy,” said Emily; “I see she understands what you want. She will make it pretty, and not too expensive. Madame,” turning to the Frenchwoman, “Mrs. Coolidge is married, you know,” she added smiling, “and has a husband to consult.”

“Oh,” said the graceful artiste smiling, “when you husband see you look pretty, he tink noting of the cost.”

“I don’t know that, madame,” said Lucy laughing, unconsciously pleased at the flattery. “But you’ll make it as reasonable as possible.”

“Certain, madame; I make it as cheap as I can afford. You shall like your dress. And you, mademoiselle, will come to-morrow; I have some new costume.”

The Fancy Ball, which had been the talk of the town for a month, went off brilliantly. Emily’s dress was Madame Dudevant’s chef d’oeuvre, and the delicate Titania looked the creation of a poet. But Tom, as Bully Bottom, was glorious. The young husband and wife were conspicuous amid even that distinguished throng; and Lucy, proud of her husband’s wit, entered with delight into the spirit of the whole; and he, as Madame Dudevant truly prophecied, when “he saw her look so pretty, thought nothing of the cost.”

——