Montgomery County sentinel. [volume] (Rockville, Md.) 1855-1974, 1923-08-17
OUT
BY MYRTA ALICE LITTLE

H-~-----s--.--
20, 1928. by Mcclure Newspaper syndloate.)
Tic ANY metropolitan modiste ever
l had more canny eye for line, color
and general fitness than Nancy Leon
ard, nobody In Easton had ever seen
her. The odd part of 1t was that no
body in Easton realized what treas
ure the little place owned in its vii
lage dressmaker--all took their best
gowns to the nearest city and brought
them home with Madame Marie
Smythettes little gold labels on them.
Almost everybody knew that the
madame's real name was Mary Smith,
and some folks knew that Mary Smith,
2S45 Boulevard, City, and Nancy
Leonard, r. D. No. 1, Easton, learned
to draft patterns and slash Grape at
the same fashion shop in the city.
But Easton elite sighed over Nancy's
lack Of ambition In settling down with
three older semi-invalid sisters In the
ark of house-hopelessly "out," and
Easton elite continued to put on Its
best bib and tucker, take the eleven
o'clock express, parlor cars only, to
the lure OF Nine. Marie, who got more
popular and richer every time she
changed the color of her hair or went
to Paris for positively the last word
in wraps, gowns and such.
During the years of the fashionable
exodus from Easton to the city, little
Nancy Leonard continued quietly on
her cheerful way, wearing plain little
frocks that Easton's aristocracy called
absurd" dressing her hair In fash
lon long tout"
1t looked as If there never would
be any change In the way things were
going, except for the worse for Nancy
Leonard, and for the better for Marie
Smythette. But one day In midwinter
along came Ann Rowe from the big
gest city on earth to EastOn village,
and changes popped up and flew over
the town with a whlrr and a flutter,
like cartridges. scared out Of hiding
by passer-by who never suspected
those cartridges herself.
Ann was like that-just stopping at
Easton to visit an elderly aunt, pass
ing through the town on her way west,
never suspectlng the existence Of
Nancy, the village dressmaker, until
II was this way Ann was all bronze
and gold and garnet and pearl-eyes
and hair matched cheeks like flame,
hands so white you didn't dare touch
them, frocks blending in way with
AIMS atmosphere but emphasizing 1t
in such way that you stared like n
youngster, and then sighed.
Even Easton's elite did that II was
the elites perfect tribute to Ann
Rowe.
Another trlbute-legs perfect, quite
as unprecedented, happened at the
high school principals mothers lunch
con In AIMS honor. Still staring nj
Ann, the mother herself spilled all that
was spillable Of cup of cOffee-nO
demi tasse, elther-down Ann Rowe's
gorgeous gem Of gown.
The gown was wreck. The high
school teachers mother, Of course,
after the first few hours of inconsol-
able grief, recommended Nine Marie
a panel, embroidery, braid, old lace,
sequins-the madam would know
surely
When Ann returned to her aunts
freslde with the havoc Of the coffee
In full evidence, aunt remarked Sc
renely as If maybe there were a thread
on the carpet, Take 1t to Nancy
Leonard, cross the street; Nancy's
got sense"
It was Nancy's great hour, the hour
for which everything she had ever
done had been preparing her Nancy
was not afraid Of the beautiful lady
from the biggest city on earth. Nancy
had picture to paint, the first per-
feet picture she had ever had, and the
colOrs given her weren't right.
Nancy did not hesitate to say so.
She said so In quick, honest little
sentences.
Miss Rowe-yOu want this gown
right, don't you? It's fortunate, that
coffee's being spilled. You can always
thank the high school teachers mother
for that. You see people stare at you.
You strike them. They forget what
they are doing. It's not you. You're
lovely. It's the frOcks you wear. They
stand out, away from you. They don't
help to express you, they shout. They
scream the mode. People ought to be
unconscious Of what you wear only
conscious Of the harmony--the fashion
that's right for you, not necessarily the
fashion Paris Is setting.
"Will you let me show you what
mean in this? It isn't the color only,
It's the lines, the elabOrateness Of the
back Rulned2 o, Miss Rowe, may
I show your The folks whO've been
making your gowns have been using
you to advertise their creations. I
know. I'm not blaming them. But
won't you let me-frame your Won't
you2"
That was the beginning. There'll
never be any end. The eagerness Of
the child, the spirit Of the artist, the
canny eye for line and color and gen
eral fitness, the love Of her work,
came to their own in Easton, in the
heart of Nancy Leonard Tier patrons
from the biggest city on earth keep
her and her corps Of workers so busy,
she doesn't have time to make even
dinner gown for the doctors wife or
the high school principals mother, the