"And we can't both be mistaken,
can we? But where can I get enough?" and her countenance, that the
cheering coincidence had rendered seraphic, was once more clouded with
doubt.
"Why, you have yards of it."
"Yes, but mine is all made up in some form or other, and it musses
one's things so to pick them to pieces."
"So it does, dear," replied Lucy, with gentle but genuine feeling.
"It would only be for one night, Lucy--I should not hurt it, love--you
would not like to fetch down your Brussels point scarf, and see how it
would look, would you? We need not cut the lace, dear; we could tack
it on again the next morning; you are not so particular as I am--you
look well in anything."
Lucy was soon seated denuding herself and embellishing her aunt. The
latter reclined with grace, and furthered the work by smile and
gesture.
"You don't ask me about the skirmish in the nursery."
"Their squabbles bore me, dear; but you can tell me who was the most
in fault, if you think it worth while."
"Reginald, then, I am afraid; but it is not the poor boy; it is the
influence of the stable-yard; and I do advise and entreat you to keep
him out of it."
"Impossible, my dear; you don't know boys. The stable is their
paradise. When he grows older his father must interfere; meantime, let
us talk of something more agreeable."
"Yes; you shall go on with your story. You had got to his look of
despair when your papa came in that morning."
"Oh, I have no time for anybody's despair just now; I can think of
nothing but this detestable gown.
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