"It is one of the last uncle
Philip had made in New Orleans, and fetched up the river. You might draw
this muslin through my smallest ring. See this dear little girdle--way
up here right under my arms--and so delicately worked in these pale blue
forget-me-nots, that look as if they were just in bloom. See!"--lifting
the gauzy skirt as a child lifts its apron--"Here is a border of the
forget-me-nots all around the bottom. But you are such a goose that you
don't know how pretty it is unless I tell you," pretending to shake him,
with trills of happy laughter. "All the same, you shall look at the
slippers, too! You shall see that the kid is as blue as the
forget-me-nots,--whether you want to or not!" drawing back the skirt and
putting out her foot.
And the boy gazing at her face, forgot his bashfulness far enough to
admire the frock and the slippers as much as she thought they deserved.
Neither of these children of the wilderness knew how unsuitable her
dress was, that it had never been intended for wearing in the morning
anywhere, or for the forest at any time.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161