“What, have you a mantua-maker all to yourselves?”
“Oh, she does not make gowns; she only does plain sewing.”
“And two cook-maids, and two chambermaids, and two beside! Why, whatever in all the world can they find to do?”
“Lucette is Grandmamma’s woman, and Perkins is my Aunt Dorothea’s,” said I.
“But what have they got to do? That’s what I want to know,” said my Aunt Kezia.
“Well, Lucette gets up Grandmamma’s laces and fine things,” said I, “and quills the nett for her ruffles, and dresses her hair, and alters her gowns—”
“What’s that for?” said my Aunt Kezia.
“When a gown has been worn two or three times,” said Hatty, “they turn it upside down, Aunt, and put some fresh trimming on it, so that it looks like a new one.”
“But what for?” repeated my Aunt Kezia.
“Why, then, you see, people don’t remember that you had it on last week.”