How I did hate the length of leg that I showed in my very short skirt! She fixed her eyes in a very obstinate manner on those said legs, clothed as they were in coarse stockings, which, alack and alas! were darned in more places than one. Then her eyes travelled lower and rested on my feet. I had taken off my huge boots now; but what was the good of that when my feet were enveloped in shoes quite as large, and of the very ugliest possible make?
Miss Donnithorne heaved a profound sigh.
“I wish—” I said impulsively.
“You wish what, Rachel?”
“That you would let me wear the brown skirt.”
“And why, child? It is absolutely hideous.”
“But it is long,” I cried. “You would not see my legs nor my ugly feet.”
“Rachel, you want a great deal of attention; you are being sadly neglected.”
“Am I?” I said. Then I added, “Why do you say so?”
“It is but to look at you. You are not such a child that you could not do hundreds of things which at present never enter into your head.”