“No, Lucy, no,” was the solemn reply; “I have tried to shut my eyes to it, but I can't.”
“So it seems. Ha! ha!”
“Now do be serious; it is no laughing matter. How unfortunate I am!”
“Not at all. Take my gown; I can easily alter yours to fit me, if necessary.”
“Oh, you good girl, how clever you are! I should never have thought of that.” N. B—She had been thinking of nothing else these six hours.
“Go to bed, dear, and sleep in peace,” said Lucy, soothingly. “Leave all to me.”
“No, I can't leave all to you. Now I am to have yours, I must try it on.” It was hers now, so her confidence in its fitting was shaken.
Mrs. Bazalgette then lighted all the candles in the sconces, and opened Lucy's drawers, and took out linen, and put on the dress with Lucy's aid, and showed Lucy how it fitted, and was charmed, like a child with a new toy.
Presently Lucy interrupted her raptures by an exclamation. Mrs. Bazalgette looked round, and there was her niece inspecting the ghostly robe which had caused her such a fright.
“Here are oceans of yards of lace on her very nightgrown!” cried Lucy.