According to the Pattern (Romance Classic). Grace Livingston Hill

if you can afford them. I am very certain you will succeed in your undertakings. It only requires tact and thought for others.

      She closed her eyes and leaned back in her chair with another deep sigh as suddenly the appalling magnitude of the work she had undertaken broke over her. She faltered at the thought of the wearisome way she must tread. Would it all pay? Could she do it? Would her strength and her money hold out till she gained her point and won her husband to herself? Was it not worse than useless to try? Might she not better give in at the start and accept the situation? Never!

      She sprang to her feet, throwing the magazine down and walking excitedly to and fro, her hot brain fairly reeling under the whirl of plans for sandwiches and dresses and invitations and sundries which should cost but a trifle and yet should hold their own with the best.

      And from that moment she went forward and would not think the word defeat. She had a clue to the ways of the great world. It had been given her graciously and clearly. She could understand and obey. She felt in her heart that there would be results. If there was failure, it would be her fault in carrying out instructions; but there should not be failure. She would see to that. Had she not always been able to make or do anything that she had set her heart upon? She recalled with a weary smile how she had patiently sewed white feathers on an old ivory fan frame as a girl, because her dearest wish had been to have a feather fan and her mother had not considered their purse was full enough for such an unnecessary expenditure. There were other things too, small in themselves, but as she looked back upon them and recalled how she had carried her point despite all obstacles, they gave her courage to hope that what she had once done she could do again. Her purpose should be carried out to the end. It was her only hope. Then with a pitiful sob trembling in her throat as she drew another deep breath she unlocked her door and walked forth to begin her herculean task.

      Downtown her resolves led her, to the great stores, where were wonders of the world of fashion in plenty. Her money was limited and she must use her wits.

      It happened to be a good day for her induction into the science that began in the garden of Eden with a fig leaf. That was a brilliant exhibition of gowns, robes, dresses, frocks, or whatever the fashionable name for the outer covering a woman wears happened to be that week, and the display of more bewildering beauty of texture, color, form and fashion than perhaps had ever been seen in that city before.

      She paused before the great glass cases containing these marvels of the dressmakers’ art and began a systematic study, catching her breath at the enormous importance that the world placed upon clothes, and then shutting her eyes to her own stupendous audacity.

      She went over all the beautiful display once and then returned to the beginning and began to take notes in minute detail. There was that great exquisite gray costume. There were possibilities in her own gray silk, out of date and somewhat worn. She noted carefully the little touch of elegance given by the vest of latticed gray velvet ribbon, the spaces filled by filmy spider’s webs in silver thread. Being well versed in lace stitches she took courage. That vest which alone gave the costume its distinguishment would be unattainable to most women without a well-filled purse. To her it was quite possible. Her skillful fingers would help her here with little labor. The real outer material of the garment need not be expensive, some light wool with silken threads, and lined with her old gray silk. She drew a sigh of relief and passed on, mentally counting the few dollars that would represent this first dress. There would not be many such for she had but few silk dresses that would even do for lining. There was a black one which might work in, and that was all, unless she sacrificed her wedding gown. She almost blushed to think of its simplicity beside the billows of white satin she at that moment came upon, encrusted with priceless point lace. She passed it by with a mere glance and moved on to another simple looking costume which scarcely seemed to belong to the elaborate collection, and appeared almost to be shrinking behind the card announcing its designer and executor. Mrs. Winthrop read the card. Not for nothing had she studied her fashion magazine. She knew the name of that house in Paris well by this time, and stood in awe before the model of cloth that was representative. She looked from the card back to the gown and began to see detail such as she had read about and until now had not understood. What gladdened her more than anything else was to discover that most of the distinguishing features of these wonderful dresses were bits of needle work which could easily be attained by one who understood embroidery and lace making and all the many little arts and secrets of fancy work of the higher grade as did she. She blessed the days gone by when she had let her happy fingers learn this cunning while she framed wonderful stories of bears and fairies and poppy-garlanded nymphs from the land of sweet dreams for her little ones. Oh, in those days, she had never conceived of the terrible need in which these accomplishments would bring her aid!

      But she must not pause to let these thoughts sweep over her and bring that terrible grip of her heart which seemed almost like a piercing dagger. She must control her feelings. She would have need of a heart strong and active for her work. She must not let it break down for lack of self-control. She had heard that great trouble would bring on heart disease. She would not let it come to her. Her will should lay an iron hand upon her feelings and keep her laughing and bright in spite of the shadow that lurked just over her head. She would force her body to perform all the physical part of being glad.

      It might be there was something in the mind cure. She had read of such things. She would try it. Not try, she would make it succeed. Steadily on she went around that array again, growing interested as she progressed, putting down in a little note-book, items to be remembered, relating to certain things she might do with old material or with her ability to embroider and sew.

      She ignored many showy wax ladies in imported attire as being out of keeping with her needs. There was one sentence in her mentor’s letter she had not forgotten: “for you know there is proportion in everything.” It should never be said of her that she was inappropriately dressed for her position. Everything should be quiet and yet—and yet—cunning planner—she meant to have the distinguished, inimitable something about her clothes that would mark the woman of good taste in the art of dressing well, and give a dim idea of studied plainness which every well-dressed woman knows is purchased at far greater price than the more showy garment. Once she paused beside a lovely creation of point lace whose pattern was faintly outlined in the tiniest possible ruched ribbon of pale pink, like a dream of roses in winter frost, and examined the pattern, while the wax-cheeked bridesmaid who wore it graciously held out a wilderness of pink roses before her unnoticing eyes, and surveyed her staringly from under her thick auburn eyelashes. She studied the lace carefully and wondered if she could achieve its like for the garnishing of one of her gowns with a collar and handkerchief of fine point she possessed, and some of that delicate ribbon work. How effective it would be on black!

      Weary at last of the long strain she turned to go back. She would just see that gray suit again to be sure how the white chiffon was arranged under the gray and silver lattice and the exact shade of the canary colored breast knot of soft satin, and then she would go home for that clay. She was too tired to do another thing, and really she had accomplished much. She must have a sample of her own gray silk before she could get the outer material. What a blessing that the gray silk waist fitted her beautifully. All the better that it was plain. It would make a most delightful lining. Of course the skirt must be remodeled but that would not be difficult with a good pattern. She could do the underpart all herself and not have a dressmaker till she was ready for the outside. Ah! perhaps she might even accomplish this one gown alone entirely. She was sure she could do all the particular parts if she gave herself up to it, and that would leave more money to pay for the other things, for the dressmaker would have much to do and she must go to a very good one to have her linings made, and perhaps to a tailor for some things. She must economize all she could.

      Thinking which she arrived before the gray gown.

      Then from above her, somewhere on another floor of the great store and floating down through the open rotunda, came soft, sweet, swelling music, like angelic voices from afar.

      It seemed to come nearer and surround her being and float about her naked soul and bathe her in its restfulness.

      In a distant gallery there was some newly invented instrument, by whose mechanism a thousand harps and voices seemed to be set free at once