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her golden tan and the
skirt nipped becomingly in at the waist.  She especially liked the puffed
sleeves and ruffled accents on the jacket and the back of the skirt.     
     
    Mia
bought seven skirts, as many shirtwaists, and three jackets.  She splurged on
twelve shirts on Emma’s recommendation.  “Don’t skimp on the shirts!  It’s the
place where young ladies can show their individuality.”  All of the shirts were
white of course, but there were so many materials and styles to consider.  Tiny
pearl or gold buttons, rows of lace, ties, and types of linen and silk were all
seen, commented on, and considered.  Most of the new blouses she purchased were
silk: from a light material that would be almost translucent under the
shirtwaist, to a heavy twilled silk blouse for the chilliest winter weather. 
She added a white wool blouse, and a matching undershirt. 
     
    She
chose a light shawl, a heavy cloak, and three pair of gloves, though she
expected she would be picking up another pair or two at the milliner’s when she
looked at hats.  She sighed as the seamstress wrapped the packages in brown
paper.  The woman had gotten much friendlier once she saw the card Mr. Smith
had given her.  Mia made a mental note not to come back to this shop when she
needed more clothing for winter. She was bleeding a little where the seamstress
had poked a bit harder than she should have while fitting the uniforms up. 
     
    They
still had to shop for stockings, under-things, nightdresses, and shoes.  The
list of things she suddenly needed seemed endless.  Exhausted, she and
Emma made their way back to their rooms for tea.  It was a fine meal, and Emma
rested while Mia read a book she’d gotten at a street vender in between shops. 
Imagine, being able to buy a new book on the street!  It wasn’t even a market
day.  Things were very different in the City.   
     
    Her
first glimpse of the college came the next day when she picked up her course
schedule.  It was a sprawling complex totaling over fifty buildings.  If asked,
a student of architecture could trace the various styles to every major period
in City history.  Some were showpieces of flamboyant carving and glasswork;
others were models of more subtle craftsmanship.  There were spiraling towers,
domes, arches, and flying buttresses: occasionally all on the same building.    
     
    Mia walked
hesitantly up the stair of the man office, and queried the busy woman behind
the first desk.  The woman mutely pointed to a desk with a sign that read
“schedules” without looking up from the strange machine she was working on.  It
took up the whole working area, with hundreds of individual brass buttons set
up like an organ.  She was pressing those buttons at a rapid rate, making a
soft clicking noise with each tap.  The sound was at once irritating and
vaguely appealing, assuming as Mia did, that the quick taps were accomplishing
a great deal.  She was inclined to linger and watch this fascinating procedure,
but Emma steered her to the desk.
     
    A
plump woman with three pencils sticking out of her hair at odd angles handed
Mia a slip of parchment containing a rather full schedule.  Mia took the slip
and counted the classes.  She was surprised to see that she’d been assigned
thirteen.  She glanced up and noticed that the lady was watching her intently:
she blushed and thanked her, and walked outside with Emma.
     
    Another
bout of shopping ensued.  Mia bought three additional dresses and matching
slippers to wear on rest days, a sky blue, a deep purple, and an emerald silk
that was too fancy for anything she was likely to be doing.  But it was such a
lovely color and cut in the popular mermaid style!  It brought to mind old
daydreams from when she was a very little girl: days when a ragged shawl tied
around her waist became a fashionable gown and she danced away the night in the
arms of a handsome Greatlord at a fabulous party.  So she’d bought the