Aunt Caroline's Silk Dress Page #2

"Aunt Caroline's Silk Dress" is a poignant short story by Lucy Maud Montgomery, centered around a young girl named Laura who is deeply influenced by the memory of her beloved Aunt Caroline. The narrative explores themes of nostalgia, longing, and the impact of personal memory through the lens of Laura's admiration for her aunt's beautiful silk dress. As Laura grapples with her feelings of loss and the significance of the dress, the story reflects Montgomery's signature style of intertwining emotional depth with vivid, descriptive imagery, ultimately capturing the complexities of familial bonds and the passage of time.

• Short story

								


"Because I knew I couldn't go, and I thought you would feel badly over
that. Caddy, I wish you hadn't seen it."

"Oh, Patty, I do wish you could go to the party. It was so sweet of
Clare to invite you, and perhaps she will be offended if you don't
go--she won't understand. Clare Forbes isn't a girl whose friendship
is to be lightly thrown away when it is offered."

"I know that. But, Caddy dear, it is impossible. I don't think that I
have any foolish pride about clothes, but you know it is out of the
question to think of going to Clare Forbes's party in my last winter's
plaid dress, which is a good two inches too short and skimpy in
proportion. Putting my own feelings aside, it would be an insult to
Clare. There, don't think any more about it."

But Carry did think about it. She lay awake half the night wondering
if there might not be some way for Patty to go to that party. She knew
it was impossible, unless Patty had a new dress, and how could a new
dress be had? Yet she did so want Patty to go. Patty never had any
good times, and she was studying so hard. Then, all at once, Carry
thought of a way by which Patty might have a new dress. She had been
tossing restlessly, but now she lay very still, staring with wide-open
eyes at the moonlit window, with the big willow boughs branching
darkly across it. Yes, it was a way, but could she? Could she? Yes,
she could, and she would. Carry buried her face in her pillow with a
sob and a gulp. But she had decided what must be done, and how it must
be done.

"Are you going to begin on your organdie today?" asked Patty in the
morning, before she started for school.

"I must finish Mrs. Pidgeon's suit first," Carry answered. "Next week
will be time enough to think about my wedding garments."

She tried to laugh and failed. Patty thought with a pang that Carry
looked horribly pale and tired--probably she had worried most of the
night over the interest. "I'm so glad she's going to Chris's wedding,"
thought Patty, as she hurried down the street. "It will take her out
of herself and give her something nice to think of for ever so long."

Nothing more was said that week about the organdie, or the wedding, or
the Forbes's party. Carry sewed fiercely, and sat at her machine for
hours after Patty had gone to bed. The night before the party she said
to Patty, "Braid your hair tonight, Patty. You'll want it nice and
wavy to go to the Forbes's tomorrow night."

Patty thought that Carry was actually trying to perpetrate a weak
joke, and endeavoured to laugh. But it was a rather dreary laugh.
Patty, after a hard evening's study, felt tired and discouraged, and
she was really dreadfully disappointed about the party, although she
wouldn't have let Carry suspect it for the world.

"You're going, you know," said Carry, as serious as a judge, although
there was a little twinkle in her eyes.

"In a faded plaid two inches too short?" Patty smiled as brightly as
possible.

"Oh, no. I have a dress all ready for you." Carry opened the wardrobe
door and took out--the loveliest girlish dress of creamy organdie,
with pale pink roses scattered over it, made with the daintiest of
ruffles and tucks, with a bertha of soft creamy lace, and a girdle of
white silk. "This is for you," said Carry.

Patty gazed at the dress with horror-stricken eyes. "Caroline Lea,
that is your organdie! And you've gone and made it up for me!
Carry Lea, what are you going to wear to the wedding?"

"Nothing. I'm not going."

"You are--you must--you shall. I won't take the organdie."

"You'll have to now, because it's made to fit you. Come, Patty dear,
I've set my heart on your going to that party. You mustn't disappoint
me--you can't, for what good would it do? I can never wear the dress
now."

Patty realized that. She knew she might as well go to the party, but
she did not feel much pleasure in the prospect. Nevertheless, when she
was ready for it the next evening, she couldn't help a little thrill
of delight. The dress was so pretty, and dainty, and becoming.

"You look sweet," exclaimed Carry admiringly. "There, I hear the
Browns' carriage. Patty, I want you to promise me this--that you'll
not let any thought of me, or my not going to the wedding, spoil your
enjoyment this evening. I gave you the dress that you might have a
good time, so don't make my gift of no effect."

"I'll try," promised Patty, flying downstairs, where her next-door
neighbours were waiting for her.

At two o'clock that night Carry was awakened to see Patty bending over
her, flushed and radiant. Carry sat sleepily up. "I hope you had a
good time," she said.

"I had--oh, I had--but I didn't waken you out of your hard-earned
slumbers at this wee sma' hour to tell you that. Carry, I've thought
of a way for you to go to the wedding. It just came to me at supper.
Mrs. Forbes was sitting opposite to me, and her dress suggested it.
You must make over Aunt Caroline's silk dress."

"Nonsense," said Carry, a little crossly; even sweet-tempered people
are sometimes cross when they are wakened up for--as it
seemed--nothing.

"It's good plain sense. Of course, you must make it over and--"

"Patty Lea, you're crazy. I wouldn't dream of wearing that hideous
thing. Bright green silk, with huge yellow brocade flowers as big as
cabbages all over it! I think I see myself in it."

"Caddy, listen to me. You know there's enough of that black lace of
mother's for the waist, and the big black lace shawl of Grandmother
Lea's will do for the skirt. Make it over--"

"A plain slip of the silk," gasped Carry, her quick brain seizing on
all the possibilities of the plan. "Why didn't I think of it before?
It will be just the thing, the greens and yellow will be toned down to
a nice shimmer under the black lace. And I'll make cuffs of black
velvet with double puffs above--and just cut out a wee bit at the
throat with a frill of lace and a band of black velvet ribbon around
my neck. Patty Lea, it's an inspiration."

Carry was out of bed by daylight the next morning and, while Patty
still slumbered, she mounted to the garret, and took Aunt Caroline's
silk dress from the chest where it had lain forgotten for three
years. Carry held it up at arm's length, and looked at it with
amusement.

"It is certainly ugly, but with the lace over it it will look very
different. There's enough of it, anyway, and that skirt is stiff
enough to stand alone. Poor Aunt Caroline, I'm afraid I wasn't
particularly grateful for her gift at the time, but I really am now."

Aunt Caroline, who had given the dress to Carry three years before,
was, an old lady of eighty, the aunt of Carry's father. She had once
possessed a snug farm but in an evil hour she had been persuaded to
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