"Yes," was the short reply.
"Did Mr. Swanland send them to you, or had you to apply for them again, or—"
"Mr. Swanland did not send them to me," said Dolly, as her friend paused. "I applied for them, and he first agreed I should have the boxes, and then thought it was a useless form having them removed from Homewood. So I said nothing more on the subject, and neither did he; but they are here."
"How did they come?" asked Mrs. Werner.
"That I cannot tell you. One Sunday evening, when I returned from church, they were piled up in the kitchen. I promised never to say how they were got away or who brought them; and, indeed, though half tempted to send them back again, I was thankful to have a few decent clothes to wear again once more."
Mrs. Werner looked down at her friend, and smiled as her glance wandered over the pale grey silk dress and black velvet upper skirt and bodice in which Dolly had thought fit to bemoan her lot.
Would Dolly ever be Dolly, she wondered, without her masses of hair—her pretty dresses—her small effects of jewellery—her little graceful knickknacks—and purely feminine deceptions.
No; they were an integral part of my heroine's imperfect character.
Honestly, and to be utterly outspoken, it was a comfort to Dolly, in the midst of her misery, to be able to array herself in purple and fine linen. Poor little soul! wretched though she might be and was, she did not feel herself so completely forsaken by God and man when attired in silk velvet and stiff silk as she might if only in a position to appear in a linsey gown. Vanity shall we say? As you please, my readers. The matter is really of little importance; only allow me to remark, there is a vanity near akin to self-respect—a desire to turn the best side of one's life's shield out for the world to see, which often invests poverty itself with a certain grace of reticence and dignity of non complaint, that we look for in vain amongst those who allow the unmended rags and tatters of their lost prosperity to flaunt in the breeze and stimulate the compassion of every passer-by.
"That reminds me, Dolly," said Mrs. Werner, after a slight pause. "I meant to buy you a Christmas present."