glad he cannot, for I know he would laugh, and I have a sneaking conviction that my tout ensemble in my new gear is more likely to provoke derision than admiration. But oh, it is so comfortable! I have put it on behind my drawn curtain over and over again, for no earthly reason than to assure my eyes and touch that I am not dreaming, and that it is my very own, made for me.
We are all at work in the school-room, toiling at "seam, gusset, and band," and envying heartily the blackbird who is free as air, and knows it, singing at his ease as he swings on the apple bough that looks in at the tall narrow window! The sunbeams dance and flicker on the dull school-books impudently, saying, as plain as they can speak, "We can play hide-and-seek all day if we please; we are not answerable to any one, and we have no lessons to learn or work to do."
Steps come down the corridor; no mincing feminine ones this time, but a man's bold decided tread. I lay down my stitching to listen. The door opens, a head is popped in. "Cricket?" says a loud clear voice, the door is shut again, and down go work and thimbles, a Babel of delighted cries bursts forth, and in thirty seconds the room is cleared, and we are all upstairs, pulling off ribbons, gowns, crinolines, all our feminine belongings, and pulling on knickerbockers and blouses? Yes, knickerbockers! Let no one blush or look shocked, for they are long and ample, and tied modestly in at the ankle; and as to the blouse, which descends below the knee, and is trimly belted in at the waist, is as decent and uncompromising as that worn by Dr. Mary Walker; our costume being, in short, nothing more or less than that which is designated by the somewhat opprobrious title of "Bloomer." The knickerbockers bring comfort, the tunic confers respectability. It is a lovely thought that I can kick up my heels to my heart's content, and yet preserve decorum. As to what manner of female I look, I care nothing; my sensations are all I think about, and they
