“When did he ask you?” asked Natasha.

“A few weeks ago,” said Fiona.

“Well!” said Marlin. “Thanks for telling us.”

“I was going to,” said Fiona. “I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.”

“What are you going to wear?” asked Marlin.

“You know, my good clothes,” said Fiona.

“I heard all the girls go dress-shopping in Shoreline,” said Natasha.

“All but one,” said Fiona cheerfully.

“You can’t wear pants,” said Marlin.

“Can and will,” said Fiona.

Marlin looked at the ground, deep in thought, and then said, “I’m selling the ring. You can use some of the money from that. I mean you can get a dress now and we’ll just say that the ring money covers it.”

“No, I can’t, Marlin. I guess I was hoping maybe I could get a dress at the last second if Miss Webster and Mr. Pettinger adopted us. That Miss Webster would find out I was going to the dance and suggest dress-shopping. But we need to be realistic. They didn’t. They’re gone. There will be no dress. And we have to be careful with money and spend wisely only on the necessities and a dress I would wear once is not a necessity. Anyhow, it’s not the end of the world. I told all the girls that everyone in London wore pants to dances. I’m going to be the chic new girl in pants. Even if we had the money for a dress we have no way to get to Shoreline to shop for it.”

“Well…” Marlin thought about it. “Your good black pants are okay but that white shirt is kind of blah and the vest is out of style. I mean at the time you got it it was okay for church but you don’t want to wear it to a dance. No one wears vests anymore.”

“I already thought of that,” said Fiona. “I’ll just wear the white shirt but out, not tucked in.”

“Maybe Martha had something we can redo instead with the sewing machine Miss Webster left us. I’m not good at sewing but you are,” said Marlin. “You know, something sparkly or chiffon or more dressy somehow. From the look of the clothes we bagged in her bedroom, she was pretty tiny. Her stuff would fit you. Or maybe she’s got a scarf or something you can dress it up with.”

“I hate scarves,” said Fiona. “They fidget me and I think they look old-lady-like anyhow. When we bagged Martha’s clothes and moved them from her bedroom to the attic I didn’t see anything I would want to wear anywhere let alone to a dance. There was nothing but ratty T-shirts and sweatshirts.”

“What about the attic? There’s a bunch of boxes there we haven’t gone through. Maybe she had some old glamorous clothes she stored there that we could redo. She must have had some good clothes. She had two men after her, for Pete’s sake. She couldn’t have worn ratty T-shirts all the time.”