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The flush upon her wet cheeks deepened and became dark; even her arm grew redder as she gazed back at him. In his eyes was patent his complete realization of the figure she cut, of this bare arm, of the strewn hair, of the fallen stocking, of the ragged shoulder of her blouse, of her patched short skirt, of the whole dishevelled little figure.

And whoso considers the parable of the wretched infant, shall find, that before it was washed with water it was wrapped up or covered, as it was found, in its blood, in and with the skirt of his garment that found it in its filth.

"I simply won't see you in that old grey skirt a minute longer go and put on a white frock a nice white frock. You've got plenty." "Who is always grumbling about the washing? Besides, I want to garden." "You can't garden this afternoon. On such a lovely day it's your duty to dress in accordance with it.

Nothing but a skirt is worn by the women and the men wear ragged shirts and trousers. Shoes are rarely seen in Porto Rico and a native who is lucky enough to have them is the cynosure of all eyes. The women do not know what silks and satins are, and, it seems, are not desirous of knowing. When night comes the men prepare themselves for bed. This is not hard work, and takes very little time.

They turned aside to skirt this wall, and gradually ascended until their way was barred by a "maze of gigantic snow crevices," so they turned aside again, and "began a long climb of sufficient steepness to make a zigzag course necessary." Fatigue compelled them to halt frequently, for a moment or two.

Patsy sprang to her feet; but Burgeman senior had reached forward quickly and caught her skirt, holding it in a marvelously firm grip. "Then you do know who I am; you've known it all along." "I know you're the master of all this, and your lad is the Rich Man's Son; that's all." "And you think you think I have no right to leave my son the inheritance I have worked and saved for him."

No one ever called her by her full name of Marda Lee, because she was a Lee only by courtesy, having been adopted from a distant wagon when both her parents were killed in a thunderstorm. Marda, wearing the trim tailored skirt and waist that were her usual costume, was putting the big red tablecloth of the "big meals" on the boards. Dora went quickly toward the young girl and embraced her.

It was of a style popularly known as a swallowtail, faced with satin as to lapels and once gracefully rounded to a long, bisected skirt in the rear. The satin facings were gone and the original color of the fabric, too, had faded to a shiny, bottle-green. But the long skirts at least all that was left of them still flapped bravely, as did the trousers.

She wore the simple dress of the citizen class, a rather full skirt of cloth of a finer texture perhaps than some, and of a dark crimson colour which well became her and the laced bodice and full sleeves of the day. Round her throat she had a fine white muslin kerchief edged with lace, and her apron was of the same.

The door opened; her low inaudible question was answered in the affirmative, and Olga was entering, when the skirt of her dress was held by a projecting nail, and in disengaging it, she caught a glimpse of the astonished countenance beneath the steps.