“Something they put on black dresses to make people know that you are mourning for a near relative; and according to the amount of crape you puts on, so is the relation between you and the deceased,” said Phoebe in a very oracular voice.
Nan became intensely interested.
“Then I ought to get a black dress at once,” she said.
“As you will, miss. Mrs. Richmond will see to that.”
“I don’t want Mrs. Richmond to. I would rather get it myself. I have a little money. Don’t you think I could get my own dress?”
“Of course, miss, if you have the money.”
“Are you anything of a dressmaker, Phoebe?”
“Well, miss, I made the dress I am now wearing.”
“And it is awfully nice,” said Nan. “And Sophia Maria ought to wear black too.”
“To be sure, miss.”