Four Girls at Chautauqua | Page 8

means. Its language is simply a
straightened purse, necessitating the putting together of shades that do
not quite harmonize, and trimming in a way that will cover the most
spots and take the least material. That was Eurie's dress. Skirt of one
kind and overdress of another. A very economical fashion, and one not
destined to last long, because of its economy, and the fact that very
elegant ladies rather curl their lips at it, and call it the "patchwork
style." Eurie from necessity rather than choice adopted it, and it was
also her misfortune rather than her taste that the colors were too light to
be really according to the mode. Her gloves were of an entirely
different shade from the rest of the attire, and were mended with a
shade of silk that did not quite match Altogether, Eurie's dress did not
suit Miss Erskine. But, for that matter, neither did it suit herself, with
this difference, that it was, after all, a matter of minor importance to

her.
Miss Wilbur's dress can be disposed of in a single sentence: It was a
black alpaca skirt, not too long, and severely plain, covered to within
three inches with a plain brown linen polonaise; her black hat with a
band of velvet about it, fastened by a single heavy knot, and her
somewhat worn black gloves completed her toilet, and she looked
every inch a lady. The very people who would have curled their
aristocratic lips at Eurie's attempt at style, turned and gave Miss Wilbur
a second thoughtful respectful look.
There was a Mr. Wayne who deserves attention. He possessed himself
of Miss Erskine's fan, and played with it carelessly, while he said:
"You are a queer set. What are you all going off there for, to bury
yourselves in the woods? I don't believe one of you has an idea what
you are about. And it is the very height of the season, too."
"That is the trouble," Miss Erskine said, with a little toss of her
handsome head. "We are sick of the season, and want to get away from
it. I want something new. That is precisely what I am going for."
"I have no doubt you will find it," and the gentleman gave a disdainful
shrug to his shoulders. "Out in the backwoods attending a hallelujah
meeting! I am sure I envy you."
"You don't know what we will find," Eurie Mitchell said, with a defiant
air. "Nor what may happen to us before we return. We may meet our
destinies. I have no doubt they are lurking for us behind some of the
trees. Just you meet the evening train of Wednesday, two weeks hence,
and see if you can not discover the finger of fate having been busy with
us. Wonderful things can happen in two weeks."
Just then the train gave its last warning howl, and Mr. Wayne made
rapid good-bys, a trifle more lingering in the case of Miss Erskine than
the others, and with that prophetic sentence still ringing in his ears he
departed. And the four girls were actually en route for Chautauqua.

CHAPTER III.
ENTERING THE CURRENT.
It is a queer thought, not to say a startling one, what very trifles about
us are constantly giving object lessons on our characters. Those four
girls, as they arranged themselves in the cars for their all-day journey
conveyed four different impressions to the critical looker-on. In the first
place they each selected and took possession of an entire seat, though
the cars were filling rapidly, and many an anxious woman and heavily
laden man looked reproachfully at them. They took these whole seats
from entirely different stand-points--Miss Erskine because she was a
finished and selfish traveler; and although she did not belong to that
absolutely unendurable class, who occupy room that is not theirs until a
conductor interferes, she yet regularly appropriated and kept the extra
seat engaged with her flounces until she was asked outright to vacate it
by one more determined than the rest. She hated company and avoided
it when possible. Flossy Shipley was willing, nay, ready, to give up her
extra seat the moment a person of the right sort appeared; not simply a
cleanly, respectable individual--they might pass by the dozens--but one
who attracted her, who was elegantly dressed and stylish looking.
Flossy would endure being crowded if only the person who did it was
stylish. Miss Wilbur was indifferent to the whole race of human beings;
she cared as little as possible whether a well-dressed lady stood or sat;
so far as she was concerned they were apt to do the former. She neither
frowned nor smiled when the time came that she was obliged to move;
she simply moved, with as unconcerned and indifferent