“You are a little lady, and should act like one. But here is your chamber, Miss Seabright,” said Hero, opening the door of Elsie’s beautiful room.
“Oh, how—how grand!” exclaimed Nettie, breaking from her maid, springing into the midst of the apartment, and standing gazing, speechless with admiration upon the splendor—for such they were to her—of the furniture.
The French paper on the walls, with its pretty pattern of wild rose vines climbing up gilded pillars and forming into arches: the carpet on the floor, chosen to match, with wild rose vines running over a white ground; the pink damask and white muslin curtains of the windows, that suffused the whole chamber with a soft, roseate light; the rosewood dressing bureau standing between these two windows, with its tall mirror and marble top, and elegant ornaments of porcelain, pearl and gold; the rosewood bedstead, standing in the opposite recess, with its white-embossed counterpane, and rich valance, all softly shaded by hanging curtains of pink damask, like those of the windows; the wardrobe, with its mirror doors, occupying the side to the left of the chimney; the marble-top table, with its elegant trifles—a work-box of mother-of-pearl and gold, a standish of ebony, inlaid with ivory, a portfolio, books, etc.; the work-stand of satinwood; the luxurious sofa, chair, and ottoman, covered with rose-colored cut velvet to suit the draperies; the polished steel grate; with its silver mounting, and marble mantelpiece, with its ormolu clock, vases, statuettes, medallions, etc.; lastly, the paintings, few, but admirable, though attractive to Nettie chiefly upon account of the massive and richly-gilded frames.
Introducing Nettie into that elegant, luxurious chamber was like letting a monkey loose in a fancy-shop. For a moment she stood shading her eyes with her hand, as she would have done in looking upon a dazzling winter landscape, gazing transfixed with surprise; and then she ran hither and thither, seized this and that, upset an inkstand, seized a porcelain bottle by its stopper, letting the other part fall and break; knocked down an elegant dressing-case, splitting off its pearl corners, and spilling all its contents; jumping up into one of the beautiful chairs and standing on it; snatched a statuette of Thalia from the mantelpiece, and, calling it a doll-baby, declared she would make it a red petticoat and give it the name of Dolly.
All this was the work of a minute, for then Hero went and took her hand again, and said:
“Come, Miss Seabright, all these pretty things are yours, but you must learn to handle them carefully, so as not to break and destroy them. Come, now, I have to get you ready for breakfast. You are to eat breakfast with the general. Come, let me wash your face and comb your hair.”
“No, indeed, you aint a-goin’ to wash my face and comb my hair. I’ve washed my own face and combed my own hair ever since I can remember, and I aint a-goin’ to let anybody else do it now.”
“Well, then, you do it; and here is such a pretty blue dress of princess cloth, all trimmed with black braid; and here is a black silk apron and a nice lace tucker, and silk mits, and a tortoise-shell long comb to keep your curls back, and here is a pair of black morocco boots, see!”
“Oh, how beautiful!” exclaimed the child admiringly, as she hastened with her ablutions.
When Nettie was arrayed in her new dress she scarcely permitted her maid to tie the last thing, or turn the last long ringlet behind the comb, before she sprang from under her hands and fled downstairs to “show godfather and granny how she looked dressed like a lady.”