There was a look of resolution on her young face; her eyes gleamed with a new purpose.
“I will do it,” she murmured, as she stood thoughtfully outside the door a moment, one small hand resting upon the knob. “I may as well make a bold stroke for myself at once, or I shall sink into nothingness. I must have an education; I cannot—I will not grow up ignorant, and have poor papa’s kind care in the past all go for nothing.”
She turned the handle of the door and passed into the room.
She found Mrs. Richards standing in the middle of the floor, holding up the unfinished dress in both hands, and inspecting it with no pleasant expression of countenance.
She glanced at the young girl as she entered, and as her keen eyes ran over her dainty figure in its new and tasteful garment, her face grew dark.
Star bade her a courteous “good-morning,” but she did not even deign to notice the salutation.
“Who trimmed these dresses?” she demanded, sharply.
“I did,” Star answered.
“Who told you to do it?”
“No one, marm; but I like things made pretty, and as there were plenty of pieces which could not be used in any other way, I made them up into ruffles.”