Rensselaer Union, Volume 7, Number 7, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 5 November 1874 — VELVETEEN BOOTS. [ARTICLE]

VELVETEEN BOOTS.

She never should have said it! But first I should observe that Mr. Messeps (Solomon Messeps, floor-walker in Constant & Stirling’s dry-goods establishment) possesses a straightness of back, a length of limb, a perfection of coat and trousers, a look and die-away glance in his muddy but large and dark eye, and a glamour of whisker, that make a calm description of him simply impossible to any woman under forty. These attractions* may be the reason why he story transacted itself, or rather to the young ladies thereof, in some such relation as a prize racing-cup or a champion’s belt. Certain it is that Miss Moblot, whose father owned his own house, was as well known at Constant & Stirling’s as the lay-figure in the window; that Miss Matilda Mason and Miss Selliquips were intimate friends of the deadliest type for no other purpose than to reckon up this young gentleman; that a dozen other young women were at sWord’s points about him; and that all united in detesting Miss Jennie Millfugus as half a length ahead and likely_to win, in virtue of her good looks and undeniable gentility. Therefore, I repeat, she never should have said it, even if there had been no such thing as the Millfugus TnysTery. And there was such a mystery. Jennie Millfugus, with her sister Harriet, lived in No. 10 of a block of three-story buildings well over toward the west—brick houses with high steps, wearing, in some indefinable way, the air of a person with well-cleaned gloves, and old boots scrupulously blacked. According 40 the way in which you choose to put it, these houses are the last bulwark of the street against the tide of poverty rolling in from the river, or they are the connecting link between life, four blocks away, on SIO,OOO a year and life on ten dollars a week. And being thus, as it were, on neutral ground, it was natural that they should express the ill-at-ease condition of all neutrality; also that all the inhabitants should be engaged in a desperate hand-to-hand struggle with appearances, and that they should be very high with an outside world, and observe toward each other an awful punctilio. p Foremost among this little army of {inched and struggling martyrs were larriet and Jennie Millfugus, as girls of an excellent family; one of the sharpest stings, that of poverty. For if one must be poor and can take it in the natural way, planted squarely on feet, stout and long and wide, with sleeves rolled up to the elbow, the affair is not so hopeless. The lady who delighted me but now with a nod of recognition from her barouche fifteen years ago smoked a pipe and was seen of mornings with bare feet. But, weighted with their ancestors about their necks —as were Harriet and Jennie — those two girls lived the life of a border baron of old, forever on the alert, forever menaced by the foe, forever battling with the facts that were continually forcing their way through the weak defense of appearances. Harriet was thirty-four, the family-mother, as often happens with an elder sister; and a most properly plain and practical one, adapted to her position. Jennie was twenty and the women declared there was nothing in her. Nevertheless, she was of a very wholesome and womanly- appearance—a rarer charm than is apt to be imagined. Girls are jaunty, stylish, pretty, by the sfcbre; but how often comes one to whom you are drawn, as thoroughly and essentially a woman? Just this Jennie continually suggested. You. observed the

dimples at her wrist, the white parting of her abundant hair, the wholesome redness of her lips and whiteness of her skin, a pair of fine gray eyes with black lashes and readily-dilating iris, a round waist, an easy grace in the very flow of her skirts, involuntarily, and with a quick sense of pleasure. Perhaps this was why men and Mr. Messeps found her charming. Perhaps, also, it was why the gentler inhabitants of the block had a fashion of speaking of her with a slighting smile, and as “ poor thing!” But why she should never have been seen with her sister—why, when you called on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays, as often as you pleased, you found Miss Harriet, fresh and sipiling, to receive you, and no hint of Jennie; and, if you came on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, whenever you pleased, you found Jennie, fresh and smiling, and no hint of Harriet ; and why the two sisters, differing so widely in years, should have dressed precisely alike, even to the last bow and rufflp—ah, that was the Millfugus mystery. No one ever saw them out of the little, dark, horse-hair-furnished parlor. No one ever saw them together. No one had ever dinhd, or lunched,'or taken tea with them, and no one had yet comprehended it. But to keep a mystery wholly within the compass of one’s life, and no loose end hanging out, is impossible; and a steady and cautious pull at such an end —what might it not bring pell-mell after it, should some one’s interest warrant the laying hold of it? So, as I began by saying, she should never have said it. It was. Jennie who said it, and w ith an air of triumph. A

triumphantairis always a wanton attack on human jealousy, a gratuitous waving of the red flag in the very eyes of the bull. It is true, she must have been almost more than human had she not stopped to say she could not stop, and dropped the word “Gardens,” and remarked that she was going there that evening. And that Miss Mason should say, “ With the Smith family, of course,” was vexatious; for why “or course?” as if she were a girl that could get nowhere unless pinned to the skirts of some family! And so she said it: “It might be ‘of course’ if it were you, Miss Matilda; but I am going with Mr. Messeps!” That was fairly throwing down the glove! Very imprudent in a ISdy hampered by a mystery! and with a great blush, too, that flamed from her cheeks all over her fgde! I suspect Matilda could have forgiven the speech more readily than the. blush; the latter was such an unimpeachable witness of happy consciousness on Miss Millfugus’ part; but, assuredly, she was not the girl to refuse the challenge. Could Miss Millfugus have seen—but which of us does foresee? We open the door ourselves to Fate almost invariably; yet, which of us recognizes her? Beyond a satisfied expression of “ serves her right,” Jennie thought very little about it. She was absorbed in more important considerations. It was a saying between her and her sister that “if either were called suddenly to die,’ their first impression would be that it is impossible, as they had nothing fit to die in.” And another, that “ they lived on the income of a wolf, as in it there was no more provision for clothes to an if they had been born furry creatures.” Purchasing a dress they styled shooting the rapids, so great were the perils, so nice the calculation necessary for the venture; while their wardrobe itself, i it could pretend to such a name, they christened “All the Year Round,” as in buying a gown say for the summer it was necessary to calculate also how it could be re-made in the fall and what could be done with it in the winter —a prophetic style of shopping in which only a clairvoyant or spiritual medium might be supposed to achieve complete success. And let none think lightly of these perplexities. So long as human nature is constituted as it is at present, so long not all the frowsy sayings extant about silk-worm and sheep-wool ■will console a womanly woman when she disguises dainty feet in coarse, misshapen shoes; when a wrist and shoulders that would become silk and camel’s-hair are disfigured in rusty and darned alpaca; when sashes, gloves, fans, chatelaines, flowers, perfumes, combs, pendants, ribbons, the thousand trifles that are the real secret of woman’s toilet, hang in the shop-windows as unattainable as the apples of Hesperides. And Jennie winced daily under these privations as did Gulliver under the darts of the Liliputians. Something more than mortified pride, however, was involved ,on the present occasion. The prize Messeps, the parti of the block, was in that critical condition where he might be said to be tottering on the verge of a declaration. Jennie felt, instinctively, that the approaching expedition to the Gardens involved a crisis. A touch only was needed to finish the woric; while, on the contrary, if he were allowed to recover himself it would be no easy matter to lure him back to this most desirable position. By that curious freemasonry existing among women Miss Harriet was quite well aware of the position of affairs, though up to this time not a word had been said between them on the subject. She listened to her younger sister with an anxious, pondering face, and sighed deeply. “If rent-day were only not the day after to-morrow!” she said. “If it could be any other time !” “ But I could not tell him that,” returned Jennie, half laughing, half crying. “ The usages of society won’t allow a girl, you know, to say—‘lf you will come next week I will wear the butter in my hat, the tea in my gloves, the sugar around my neck; but you must excuse me this evening, as the rent is due. and we have disposed of those articles already!’ ” “Or if we were like those story heroines,” pursued Harriet, as if thinking aloud, “who always have some wonderful old lace of satin or velvet that can be covered over an<f made to look finer than anythingfrom Worth’s. But one old gray dress, that. has done duty for two girls since spring—cotton goods at that! Do you know, Jennie, among all the bits of Italian lace wisdom going the rounds, I am not sure that there is oni) more exasperating to me than that saying about a lady’s character as revealed in her dress? Does it ever occur to anybody, I wonder, that it costs more to dress plainly and appropriately out of what odds and ends you have, or the cheap goods you can afford to buy? And that there is such a being as a lady in taste and feeling without money?” “ But to-night, to-night!” insisted Jennie,, half gleeful, half anxious; “ what can Ido for td-night? Our old gray dress is too shabby; besides, when you wore it last you greased the front.” “There is the old Victoria lawn. It is a little short-—” “And my shoes!” interrupted Jennie, putting out a foot on which the stocking was plainly visible. Oh, sis, why not give it up? Hire a room at once in some tenement-house and stand in the door with the others—those women whom you see arms a-kimbo and hair twisted up in a hard knot? Resign ourselves and tell our friends that concerts and courtships and other decencies of civilized life are not for our—income?” “There is the old black sijk basque,” continued Harriet, as if she heard nothing. “ The silk was never good, but it will not show so much in the evening. Yon can take out the sleeves and wear it as a sleeveless basque. And that three dollars that we saved ” ” “ We! —you saved for your shoes!” interpolated Jennie. Harriet put that aside with a wave of the hand. -

*• I saw ladies’ boots on Eighth avenue —don’t scream, Jennie—velveteen boots —for two dollars. Dreadful, I know, but not so dreadful as to show one’s stockings. You must put your best foot foremost, or rather keep it out of sight, and pray that there be no wind. And you can get lavender gloves to match the ribbon on your hat (with the remaining dollar.” i ' “ I will keep that,” said Jennie, doggedly, “ to buy the ears and >nout and make myself the pig complete that I should be if I listened to you, who have had no shoes in -i.\ months, and who limp on all the down-hid sides of the street because of those dr ad'Ul heels'; you, who go nowhefe; you who staid at home from the parsonage reception; you give me that three dollars that you' have pinched off from your bread arid butter-! Never!

I’ll stay at home with you”—throwing her arms about her sister's neck. Cannot you understand,” retorted Harriet, “ that this is a speculation and the purest selfishness?” Then she pushed her away, not ungently, though. “ Now’, listen. Since I must speak out, that three dollars I mean to invest in Messeps stock with an eye to future profit. Y’ou are not a woman of business. I am. I see so clearly that I want words to express it that the income on which two starve will support one in luxury, when I am left alone.” Jennie grew' scarlet. “As for that, it is all nonsense. I wonder you talk so. But if—say anything did happen—O Harriet! you know very well where I go you would go too!” “ And there would be a clause in the marriage ceremony,” said Harriet, smiling slightly— ‘ I take this woman and her sister to be my wife.’ My poor little Jenfiie, my poor child, take your money and buy your boots. Indeed, you must. If you don’t go I will, and have them fitted on my own foot, a little tight, and then I shall lose my morning’s sewing.” So adjured, Jennie w’ent. But remorse kept fast by her, and disgust half choked her.——— r / : *4 “It is like murdering your neighbor for two-and-sixpence,” she told Harriet. “To be guilty of such a meanness for velveteen boots and dollar gloves!” Nothing pleased her. She looked at her Victoria lawn and its scant plaitings with a sneer. “ I should Wear a placard, ’ s2.so—cheap,’ on my back,” she observed. “ That is what such suits are selling for.” The old silk w r aist w'as intolerable. She vowed she would prefer a shilling calico, could she afford to buy one. The wind was rising—indeed, it was a sullen, cloudy afternoon, “ I shall look like a hen on a wet day,” she told her sister, drawing on her righthand glove. Just then the bell rang, and at the same instant the glove split entirely across the back. She glanced at herself in the glass (for her eyes were red and the sunshine out of - her face), and turned to her sister with an indescribable look. “ You have invested your three dollars badly, my dear.” Mr. Messeps was waiting for her in the little dark, horse-hair furnished parlor ; gloves and trowsers cream color, coat and necktie perfect, collar and studs. If anything were wanted to complete the poor gild’s depression it was the air of fashion and prosperity that seemed actually to radiate from his handsome and satisfied self. All in a moment she felt herself half-starved, as she truly was, pinched, woe-worn, awkward, inappropriate, and advanced toward him rather with the air of a convicted felon than of the high-spirited and coquettish girl she really was. Mr. Messeps glanced at her clouded face, then at her dress, and started—at least to the girl’s sensitive fancy —and.a subtle, chilling reserve at once seemed to form itself between them. He was daunted by her manner. She was as happy and comfortable as a girl could feel in a high wind, with short skirts and dreadful velveteen boots and one bare hand, that will get red and swollen, resting conspicuously on a gentleman’s arm, and a consciousness that she is in every way at her worst. As they neared the corner they met Matilda Mason. She smiled knowingly at Mr. Messeps, took in Jennie in one long, woman’s look, till her eyes reached the ground, and started theatrically. Mr. Messeps instantly looked down. At that moment the sullen wind, tearing up the avenue in a cloud of dust, caught them, seized on Jennie’s light skirts, wrapped them tightly about her ankles, and held them there. Mr. Messeps saw, the whole world saw, the whole of the velveteen boots. It is hardly reasonable to suppose that from that moment, as Jennie told her sister, Mr. Messeps turned the conversation to velveteen boots and declared that Curtius jumped into the gulf for no other reason than that he was caught in a pair of them; or that Horatius refused to come off the bridge, and preferred to fight the whole of Lars Porsena’s army for the same reason. Nor is it credible that Thomas’ band played an overture on the same subject, as she furthermore insisted; but that the unlucky incident disturbed the whole evening and altogether startled Mr. Messeps out of the declaration on which Mr. Messeps had determined, is only too true. He certainly liked Miss Millfugus better than any girl he knew. But then Mr. Messeps had been used to speak of her as a young lady of independent income. Now did young ladies Of independent incomes wear velveteen boots? And if there Were no such income, on what did she live? Mr. Messeps felt much like a man suddenly arrested on the brink of a yawning chasm. And now one might have thought that fate had accomplished he,r worst; but if that were so fate had not consulted Matilda Mason. For it now occurred to that young lady to propose, with much artlessness of manner, a surprise call —surprises, Mr. Messeps, Miss Moblot, Miss Mason and Miss Selliquips; the surprisees the Misses Millfugus. If you are an evil-minded person very possibly you divine her motive. For me, I am innocence itself, and cannot see why this most unfortunate idea should have led them, not into the little horse-hair parlor, but straight up the stairs. Motioning for silence at a little back-room door she knocked. A voice cried “ Come in!” Miss Mason at that flung wide the door, pushing Mr. Messeps ahead, w’ho made a step forward ahd recoiled. The nnearpeted floor, the poor little bed, the few ehairs, were heaped w ith piles of what is called shop-work. Miss Harriet (it was her night—that is, the night on which she was always seen attired in the gray dress) stood amazed in the center of the floor. Before the sewing-machine, in calico sack and skirt, with sleeves rolled to the elbow, sat Jennie in the middle of a long seam. At the silence that followed the opening of the door she looked up, saw Mr. Messeps recoiling, her sister’s “ struck” face, Matilda’s malicious eye, the embarrassment of the other girls, comprehended it on the instant and came forward. <-

“ Yes,’.’ she said, “it is true. We live in thisToom. We are only allowed the use of the parlor by our landlady, who desires it should be supposed there is but one family in her house; ahd we earn our living by this sewing. But we are very glad to see you. Harriet, dear, .give them chairs, louwill excuse me; this is my sister’s company night, for we do everything on system. You see we have but one dress between us and cannot aflord, both of us, to lose an evening. What, you are going? Oh, no excuses, I beg! Come again. Then a courtesy down to the ground that would have been worthy of an Empress. •< What happened next? Did she faint? Did she cry? No one ever knew. In another week their apartments were va-

cant. No one knew' where they went. •In a month from that date Mr. Messeps and Miss Moblot were announced—engaged. She Bad won the race —by a pair ot velveteen XtQolSi—Appleton's Jvur~ Adi. < ’Y ■' ■ ■X