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Updated: June 11, 2025
She's the only lady down stairs she is! No more don't Mrs. Folter know as the cook has hers, only, if she did, it wouldn't make no differ, for she daren't tell. And cook, to be sure, it ain't her breakfast, only a cup o' tea an' a bit o' toast, to get her heart up first." "Well," said Mary, "I certainly shall not add another to the breakfasts in bed.
"I don't believe you're a human creature at all!" she cried. "You are a fairy godmother, come to look after your poor Cinderella, the sport of stupid lady's-maids and dressmakers!" The door opened, and Folter entered. "If you please, ma'am, I wish to leave this day month," she said, quietly. "Then," answered her mistress, with equal calmness, "oblige me by going at once to Mrs.
All was still, save for the slight noises Folter made, as, like a machine, she went on heartlessly brushing her mistress's hair, which kept emitting little crackles, as of dissatisfaction with her handling.
A rather cross-looking, red-faced, thin woman appeared, whom she requested to let her mistress know, as soon as was proper, that there was a young person in the house who said she had come from Testbridge by appointment to see her. "Yes, ma'am," said Folter, with a supercilious yet familiar nod to Mary; "I'll take care she knows."
Folter gave a toss of her head that seemed to say, "Have not I spoken?" but what it really did mean, how should other mortal know? for the main obstructions to understanding are profundity and shallowness, and the latter is far the more perplexing of the two.
Folter jerked herself to the bed, took the dress, arranged it on her arms, got up on a chair, dropped it over her mistress's head, got down, and, having pulled it this way and that for a while, fastened it here, undone it there, and fastened it again, several times, exclaimed, in a tone whose confidence was meant to forestall the critical impertinence she dreaded: "There, ma'am!
You know what Hesper means?" Mary said she knew, and waited a little anxious; for sideways in her eyes glowed the pink of the chosen Hesperian clouds, and, if she should not like it, what could be done at that late hour. "There is my dress," continued the Evening Star, with a glance of her eyes, for Folter was busied with her hair; "I want to know your opinion of it."
"I won't take up a single stitch. It would be mere waste of labor," cried Folter. "Then, please, ma'am," said Mary, "let Folter have that dress ready, and, if I don't succeed, you have something to wear." "I hate it. I won't go if you don't find me another." "Some people may like it, though I don't," said Mary. "Not a doubt of that!" said Folter. "Ring the bell," said her mistress.
She had herself, with the assistance of Sepia and Folter, made choice of the particular pink; but, although it continued altogether delightful in the eyes of her maid, it had, upon nearer and pro-longed acquaintance, become doubtful in hers; and she now waited, with no little anxiety, the judgment of Mary, who sat silently thinking. "Have you nothing to say?" she asked, at length, impatiently.
"Folter could take you to the proper places." "Folter would be of no use to me," said Mary. "If your coachman knows the best shops, that will be enough." "But there's no time to make up anything," objected Hesper, despondingly, not the less with a glimmer of hope in her heart. "Not like that," answered Mary; "but there is much there as unnecessary as it is ugly. If Folter is good at her needle "
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