What is it that she does to make it so wonderful?”
He only smiled at her perplexity, and she added confidentially:
“Lizzie wanted me to go to her dressmaker, but I didn’t like the idea of a man, to begin with, and then I knew Miss Simms would feel so hurt. She lives in Albany, and she’s made my dresses for so long that I thought, though she may not be so stylish, I’d better keep up with her; wouldn’t you?”
A perfectly unreasonable tenderness surged through his heart. How sweet she was!
“If she made that dress, I certainly should!” he declared.
She smoothed the crisp lavender folds deprecatingly.
“Oh, this is only a cotton dress,” she said. “But she made my gray silk, too, and Lizzie herself said it fitted beautifully.”
She took up the bottle again: it was nearly empty.
