Bazalgette say something about the length of your last dressmaker's
bill, and, as I have been very economical at Font Abbey, I found I had
eighteen pounds to spare, so I said nothing, but I thought we will
have a dress apiece that _nobody_ shall have to pay for."
"Eighteen pounds? These two lovely dresses, lace, trimmings, and all,
for eighteen pounds!"
"Yes, aunt. So you see those good souls that make our dresses have
imposed upon us without ceremony: they would have been twenty-five
pounds apiece; now would they not?"
"At least. Well, you are a clever girl. I might as well try on yours,
as you won't."
"Do, dear."
She tried on Lucy's gown, and, as before, got two looking-glasses into
a line, twisted and twirled, and inspected herself north, south, east
and west, and in an hour and a half resigned herself to take the dress
off. Lucy observed with a sly smile that her gayety declined, and she
became silent and pensive.
"In the dead of the night, when with labor oppressed, All mortals
enjoy the sweet blessing of rest," a phantom stood at Lucy's bedside
and fingered her. She awoke with a violent scream, the first note of
which pierced the night's dull ear, but the second sounded like a wail
from a well, being uttered a long way under the bedclothes. "Hush!
don't be a fool," cried the affectionate phantom; and kneaded the
uncertain form through the bedclothes; "fancy screeching so at sight
of me!" Then gradually a single eye peeped timidly between two white
hands that held the sheets ready for defense like a shield.
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