The last house in the long street, at the Green end of it, was occupied
by Miss Michin, a milliner and dressmaker, as a card in the window
informed the passer-by. Not that the card was necessary, as of course in
so small a place everybody knew everybody else; but it was a sort of
sign of office, and was always most carefully replaced when Sarah Ann,
Miss Michin's Lilliputian maid, cleaned the window, which she did much
oftener than was necessary--at least, Mrs. Dodd, the post-mistress, who
lived opposite, said so. But then Mrs. Dodd had the shop and a young
family to attend to, and did not find it possible to keep her own
windows equally bright; so it was perhaps natural that she should find a
comfort in remarking on her opposite neighbour in the manner we have
described.
Miss Michin's front parlour window was draped with white muslin
curtains, which covered it entirely, preventing the eyes of the curious
from taking surreptitious glances at the finery therein displayed, and
destined to be seen for the first time at church on the persons of the
fortunate owners. Just now, a fortnight before Christmas, the array of
gay dress material which lay about on tables and chairs was more than
usual; and Miss Michin and Nancy Forest--her decidedly pretty
apprentice--were working as if their lives depended upon it. Nancy was
the only apprentice Miss Michin had, and she had taken her when she was
fourteen without a premium, on condition that when she should be "out of
her time" (that would be in three years) she should give six months'
work in payment for the instruction she had received.
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