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In one laundry, the high-wage earners, though they often treated the $5 girls to stray sardines, cake, etc., were in the habit of sending young girls to the delicatessen shop to get their lunches, and also to the saloon for beer. Then the girl had to hurry out on the street in her petticoat and little light dressing-sack that she wore for work, for they gave her no time to change.
Stoddard made her way to Agatha in the cool chamber at the head of the stairs. Agatha, in a dressing-sack, with her hair down, called her in and sent Lizzie away. "You're not going, are you, Mrs. Stoddard?" She took Susan's two hands and held them lovingly against her cheek. "It won't seem right here, without you." "You've done your duty, Agatha, and I've done mine, as I saw it.
Jerking off the waist, which Alma had already unfastened, snatching up a dressing-sack and putting it on as she went, she appeared before him, blushing and shamefaced. "I am both surprised and mortified by what I have just overheard," he said. "I had a better opinion of my dear, eldest daughter than to suppose she would ever show herself so heartless.
Dot had her hair all down that night, and her nightgown on, and was sitting on the bed, with her feet curled up, while Ray stood in skirts and dressing-sack, before the glass, her braids half unfastened, stock-still, looking in at herself, or through her own image, with a most intent oblivion of what she pretended to be there for. "Well, Ray!
She wishes to come down and see you." Mrs. March sat up and began to twist her hair into shape. "And Burnamy?" "There is no Burnamy physically, or so far as I can make out, spiritually. She didn't mention him, and I talked at least five minutes with her." "Hand me my dressing-sack," said Mrs. March, "and poke those things on the sofa under the berth.
She wishes to come down and see you." Mrs. March sat up and began to twist her hair into shape. "And Burnamy?" "There is no Burnamy physically, or so far as I can make out, spiritually. She didn't mention him, and I talked at least five minutes with her." "Hand me my dressing-sack," said Mrs. March, "and poke those things on the sofa under the berth.
She wore a little pink flannel dressing-sack with full sleeves, and her hair, carelessly twisted into great piles, was in a beautiful disarray, curling about her cheeks and ears. "I didn't see anything of you at all last night," he grumbled. "Well, you didn't try." "Oh, it was the Other Fellow's turn," he went on.
About the house lingers a sense of unrest, of expectation, of transientness, even of anxiety and apprehension. The halls are a labyrinth. Without a guide, you wander like a lost soul in a Sam Loyd puzzle. Turning any corner, a dressing-sack or a cul-de-sac may bring you up short. You meet alarming tragedians stalking in bath-robes in search of rumored bathrooms.
Meanwhile the chambermaid had laced her up, and then thrown a dressing-sack over the young lady’s shoulders: after crimping her hair with a hot iron they proceeded to take off the curl-papers; her locks, since they were rather short, they made into two braids, leaving the hair smooth on the brow and temples.
It would have been worth while, though, to have seen her half an hour ago up in her room under the eaves, considering the question; she standing there with the sleeves of her dressing-sack fallen away from her pink, bare arms, and the hair clinging loose and moist to her bare white neck; to see her smooth the shimmering folds, there were rose-buds on that muslin, and look and long, hang it up, and turn away.
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