Cicely and Other Stories | Page 4

She had worn
it first on the day when she was fifteen years old, and her mother had
surprised her by a birthday party. And they had had tea out in the old
rose-garden, and had pelted one another with the great velvety king
roses, and she had torn her hand on a thorn. Ah, how cruelly it hurt! It
was a very present pain that made her cry out now, not the memory of
that old one.
Some one had overturned a chair just behind her, and Cicely's
nervousness made her jump forward with a violent start. With that

sudden movement the sharp needle she held was thrust deep into her
hand and two great drops of blood spurted out. With that sudden
movement, also, the silk skirt slipped from her lap, and she clutched it
to save it from touching the floor. Before she was aware of anything
but the sharp pain, before she saw the blood that the needle had brought
to the surface, two great stains blotted the front breadth of the dainty
skirt.
She gave a stifled scream, and grew white and numb. Almost instantly
madame saw and heard, and pounced down upon her. "I am ruin'!" she
shrieked, pointing to the stains. "Nozzing will take zem out!
Mademoiselle will be so angry I will lose ze trade of her!"
The irate woman took Cicely by the shoulders and shook her violently,
just as Miss Shelby and Miss Balfour were announced. They had come
for the final fitting, expecting to take the dress home with them.
Madame, still wildly indignant, went storming in to meet them, and
poor Cicely shrank back into the corner, with her face hidden against
the wall. Never in her life had she been so utterly friendless and alone.
Miss Balfour's disappointed exclamation over the stained dress reached
the girl's ears. She heard madame's eager suggestions of possible
remedies, and then Miss Shelby's cold tones:
"Now if it had been the bodice, it would not have been so bad. It could
have been hidden by some of the ribbons or lace or flowers; but to have
it right down the middle of the front breadth--that's too hopeless!
There's nothing for it but to make over the skirt and put in a whole new
breadth. There isn't time for that, I suppose, before this evening."
Madame looked at the clock and shook her head. "Ze women air rush to
ze grave now," she said. "Zay work half ze night las' night. Zat is why
zis girl say she air so nairvous zat she could not help ze needle stab
herself."
"I could just sit down and cry, I am so disappointed!" exclaimed Miss
Balfour. "I had set my heart on going to the party, and in that dress."

Cicely's sobs shook her harder than ever as the words reached her, and
her tears started afresh. Miss Shelby's voice broke in:
"I am surprised that you would keep such a careless assistant, madame.
Of course, you will expect to make the loss good to my cousin. It will
ruin your trade to keep incompetent employees. It would be better to let
the woman go."
"It is a young girl which I have jus' take," said madame, with another
shrug. "I have feel for her because she was an orphan, and I take her in
ze goodness of my heart. Behold how she repay me! Disappoint my
customers, ruin my beesness!"
She was pointing to the stains and working herself up into a passion
again, when Miss Balfour interrupted her.
"I should like to see the girl, madame. Will you please call her?"
"Certainement! Willingly, mademoiselle! Ze plaisure shall be yours for
to scold ze careless creature."
Cicely heard and shivered. It had been hard enough to bear madame's
angry reproaches, but to have the added burden of Miss Balfour's
displeasure was more than she could endure--the displeasure of the
only one who had smiled on her since she left Marcelle! A moment
later madame confronted her, and Rhoda could hear the girl's sobs.
"Oh, I can't go in! Indeed I can't, madame! It nearly kills me to think I
have spoiled that lovely dress, and that she cannot go to-night after all.
I wouldn't have done it for the world, for it was almost like having her
for my friend. She--she smiled at me--the other day."
Rhoda looked at her cousin wonderingly. Could it be some one that she
knew, who seemed to care so much about her pleasure?
Then her eyes fell on the shrinking Cicely, whom madame was pushing
somewhat unceremoniously into the room. Rhoda saw the little
black-gowned figure with the tear-swollen face, and suddenly the

crimson spots on her evening gown held a new significance.
It flashed through her mind that the