The Boarder

"Then I hope you brought some old clothes," was the practical reply.

"Not old, but plain little dresses for hard wear. I knew I'd need
them."

Later, as Amanda watched the city girl unpack, she smiled ruefully at
the plain little dresses for hard wear. Her observant eye told her that
the little dresses of gingham and linen must have cost more than her
own "best dresses." It was a very lavish wardrobe Isabel had selected
for her month on the farm. Silk stockings and crepe de chine underwear
were matched in fineness by the crepe blouses, silk dresses, airy
organdies, a suit of exquisite tailoring and three hats for as many
different costumes. The whole outfit would have been adequate and
appropriate for parades on the Atlantic City boardwalk or a saunter
down Peacock Alley of a great hotel, but it was entirely too elaborate
for a Lancaster County farmhouse.

Millie, running in to offer her services in unpacking, stood speechless
at the display of clothes. "Why," she almost stammered, "what in the
world do you want with all them fancy things here? Them's party
clothes, ain't?"

"No." Isabel shook her head. "Some are to wear in the evening and the
plainer ones are afternoon dresses, and the linen and gingham ones are
for morning wear."

"Well, I be! What don't they study for society folks! A different dress
for every time of the day! What would you think if you had to dress
like I do, with my calico dress on all day, only when I wear my lawn
for cool or in winter a woolen one for warm?"