HESTER'S GRADUATING DRESS.
By Laura J. Rittenhouse
THE trees were out in their spring costumes of pale green foliage, that was sparkling with raindrops, and the very atmosphere was saturated with sweet odors from the roses growing in the pretty yards on either side of the street, as stately Hester Bingham and pretty little Daisy Gregory walked, with buoyant, springing steps, on their way to school. "What are you going to wear for commencement, Hester?" asked Daisy. Hester smiled brightly. "You'll be surprised when I tell you, Daisy—a beautiful, creamy silk from Stuart's. Dear old Grand-papa Bingham sent me the money to buy it. I know it isn't good form for 'a sweet girl graduate' to wear such costly fabrics, but I really cannot resist the temptation. You see I have never had a silk dress in all my life, and I do want to be well dressed for once, even if it does seem vain and extravagant." "Well, why shouldn't you? For my part, I have no sympathy for people who pride themselves on the severe simplicity of their attire, and make guys of themselves, as if it were wicked to dress becomingly," asserted Daisy. "Neither have I, but I pity the girls like myself, who love pretty, dainty things, and have not the money to buy them. I try to hold myself above a desire for beautiful clothing, because with our large family at home it is a hard matter to get even the necessities. I tell myself it doesn't matter, that I am worth just as much in my old-fashioned cashmere as I should be in the most elegant gown in the city, but, in spite of myself, I sometimes long for handsome dresses." "Of course, that's natural. But it has never entered my head that you were not well dressed, Hester. You have a way of wearing your old gowns that gives them an air of elegance, as if you were 'to the manor born.' I'd give anything if I could do it, but I can't. I am an abject slave to my dresses, and am up in the clouds of self-complacency, or down in the gutter of humiliation and dowdyism, according to the garments I wear." Hester shook her head disbelievingly, but Daisy rattled on. "Oh, yes, I am too! And there's poor little Grace Minton, who needs nice things to make her look half respectable. I declare, I pity the poor child now, for she hasn't a decent thing to wear when she graduates, not even an old white dress to resurrect and make over. Everything was destroyed when their house was burned last winter. Grace says they barely escaped with their lives, and they've been living in a poor old tenement house ever since, and are dreadfully pinched, poor things!" "I'm so sorry. I did not know it was so bad as that, at least not that they were in such straitened circumstances," Hester said compassionately. "Oh! and that isn't the worst of it either. Mrs. Minton took a severe cold the night their home burned, and they fear she is going into a rapid decline, though the doctor says she would probably get well if she could go into the country for the summer, and have plenty of fresh air and outdoor exercise. But, as Mr. Minton can barely support his family now, I suppose there isn't much hope for poor Mrs. Minton." Hester's face was very serious now. "How dreadful it all is!" she said chokingly. "Yes, it is. I feel especially sorry for Grace, she looks so tacky in her shabby dress. I offered to give her one of my old ones to make over, but she declined as haughtily as a princess. I'm sure she needn't have hesitated about taking it, for I told her I was tired of it, and should never wear it again," Daisy said ingenuously. "I suppose you told her it wasn't fit to wear, anyhow, but quite good enough for her?" Hester asked somewhat sarcastically. "Indeed I didn't. I only told her it was so old-fashioned I looked like a dowdy in it, but that it would be better than—than nothing," and Daisy blushed violently as she met Hester's reproachful gaze. "How could she refuse such a delicate offer! O Daisy Gregory! you are a good-hearted little thing, but the stupidest, most tactless blunderer," Hester said frankly. There was no time for further conversation then, as they had reached the school building, but all the morning Hester's heart was heavy, and she could not keep the thought of Grace Minton and her invalid mother out of her mind. She kept saying to herself that it was no affair of hers, that poverty had laid such a heavy hand upon her own family that she could not aid others, yet repeatedly came back to her the time-worn text, "It is more blessed to give than to receive." After all, though, that didn't mean actually robbing yourself to give to another, and the check in her pocketbook had been given her expressly to buy a fine commencement dress. To not use it in that way would probably displease her grandfather, and, clearly, she had no right to do that. Safe in the seclusion of her own room that night, the conflict between pride and generous impulse began again. Back and forth she went in mental argument, undecided what to do, and yet unable to cease thinking it over. After a while she heard her mother cough a little. Somehow the sound pierced her ears painfully. Suppose it were her mother, instead of Grace Minton's, who coughed night and day, and who was doomed to die unless someone came to her rescue? Would she let a silk dress stand between her mother and life? The thought was intolerable. And should she wear the price of a life in a handsome gown upon commencement day, while poor Mrs. Minton was dying for want of fresh air and sunshine? How could she for one moment have been selfish enough to entertain such an idea! Her duty seemed so plain to her now. There was but one course for a follower of the Master to take, and that was to use the means so providentially placed in her hands, to restore health and happiness to the Minton household. So she decided to buy an inexpensive mull dress for herself and one for Grace Minton, and, instead of employing a high-priced dress-maker as she had intended, to use her own artistic taste and skill in making her simple gown. The rest of the money she would give to send Mrs. Minton to the country. And so, the bitter struggle being ended and self-conquered, Hester was soon peacefully sleeping. The next day Grace Minton went home from school with a sore heart. She had heard the girls discussing their commencement dresses, and, although free from envy, she could scarcely keep back the tears as she listened. How lovely they would all look, and how shabby she would be in her old gingham dress, without so much as the addition of fresh ribbons! Even the thought that she was salutatorian gave small comfort, because that would make the contrast between herself and the valedictorian, Hester Bingham, only the more sharply pronounced. How regal Hester would be in the soft, heavy silk Daisy Gregory had said she was to wear! People would smile no doubt as they looked at the beautiful valedictorian and then at homely little Grace Minton. As she hurried around preparing supper, brooding over her shabby clothes and her precious mother's illness, someone knocked on the front door. She wiped away the tears that were beginning to flow freely, and, answering the summons, to her surprise found Hester Bingham. For a moment the two girls were equally embarrassed, then, with innate hospitality, Grace cordially invited her visitor to enter. Then followed an exciting but happy interview. Hester could never remember afterwards how she did it, but, with her tender, generous heart in eyes and voice, she had given the pretty mull dress to Grace, and forty dollars in crisp bills to be used for the invalid mother. The delicacy, the tact with which she presented her gift, instead of wounding sensitive Grace, had filled her heart with a flood of love and gratitude. She caught hold of Hester's hands, and fairly dragged her into the bare little room where her mother was lying. "This is Hester Bingham, mamma, and, O mamma, she's an angel to be so good to us! You can go to the country now, to dear old Uncle Jacob's, and stay all summer and get plump and rosy and well again," and the excited girl hugged her mother one moment and cried for joy the next. "And I tried not to care about my old dress, mamma, but, oh! I did. I hated it! I wanted something sweet and fresh and dainty, such as the other girls were going to wear, and now, thanks to my noble, generous Hester, I have it—I have it!" Hester stood half confused and wholly silent, but in her heart was a gladness that seemed a divine benediction, and what had been a sacrifice was a sacrifice no longer.—The Advance.