Lucy timidly took off her robe, and still more timidly, began to put on that old-fashioned dress. . . .
“Don’t be afraid, dear child,” said the old lady, helping her to dress, “it will not tear so easily, for it is good old material. . . . This gown has lasted a long while,” she said, as she laced the girl’s waist in the back. “My husband was so fond of it! Ah, he has been lying in God’s earth these twenty-five years!”
She drew a sigh, straightened out the skirt, ruffled the sleeves a little, stepped three steps back, and smiled:
“Just see how becoming it is to you! What a beautiful girl you are! O Lord! At least take a look at yourself!”
She led her to the mirror, and, with folded hands, proudly gazed at her. In the looking-glass appeared the lithe form of a fair maiden; the bell-shaped skirt hung down from her slender waist, while a girdle of black ribbons wound around it. The bodice
