"Oh, isn't that a pretty calico,
mother, that with the green ground?"
"'Tis pretty, but it won't wash, child; those colours always run."
"Just look at that silk though--now that's cheap, you must
acknowledge--only eighty-seven and a half cents; if I only had a dress of
that I should be fixed."
"Laws, Caddy!" replied Mrs. Ellis, "that stuff is as slazy as a washed
cotton handkerchief, and coarse enough almost to sift sand through. It
wouldn't last you any time. The silks they make now-a-days ain't worth
anything; they don't wear well at all. Why," continued she, "when I was a
girl they made silks that would stand on end--and one of them would last a
life-time."
They had now reached Chestnut-street, which was filled with gaily-dressed
people, enjoying the balmy breath of a soft May evening. Mrs. Ellis and
Caddy walked briskly onward, and were soon beyond the line of shops, and
entered upon the aristocratic quarter into which many of its residents had
retired, that they might be out of sight of the houses in which their
fathers or grandfathers had made their fortunes.
"Mother," said Caddy, "this is Mr. Grant's new house--isn't it a splendid
place? They say it's like a palace inside. They are great people, them
Grants. I saw in the newspaper yesterday that young Mr.
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