Dodd, intending to compliment his foresight, showed
him the bed laden with the treasures they had disinterred from vanity's
mahogany tomb.
"Well, mother," said he, "you were right, and I was wrong: they are
inappropriate enough, the whole lot."
The ladies looked at one another, and Sarah permitted herself a species
of snort.
"Do we want Sarah?" he asked quietly. She retired bridling.
"Inappropriate?" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd. "There is nothing here unfit for a
bride's trousseau."
"Good Heavens! Would you trick her out like a Princess?"
"We must. We are too poor to dress her like a lady."
"Cinderella; at your service," observed Julia complacently, and
pirouetted before him in her new shawl.
Ideas rejected peremptorily at the time often rankle, and bear fruit
by-and-bye. Mrs. Dodd took up the blue shawl, and said she would make
Julia a peignoir of it; and the border, being narrowish, would do for the
bottom. "That was a good notion, of yours, darling," said she, bestowing
a sweet smile on Edward. He grunted. Then she took out a bundle of lace:
"Oh, for pity's sake, no more," cried the "British Workman.
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