She was too troubled to be other than sarcastic over the doubtful offer. It was just at that moment that the thump of a crutch was heard in the hall.
[CHAPTER IV]
THE “GLORIFIED” DRESS
“OH, DEAR!” Florence groaned, as her ear caught the sound; “if Aunt Elsie is coming in here I may as well give up; I can’t sew, with her looking on. Why can’t she stay in her room when we have given up the best one in the house for her use!”
“Good-by,” said Jean, with a spring toward the door that led to the kitchen. “I belong to the culinary department, thank goodness. Poor Florrie!”
The thump of the crutch stopped and presently the door of the dining-room swung back to admit Aunt Elsie.
“I thought likely you were sewing,” she said, cheerfully. “I brought my thimble and spectacles, thinking there might be something that I can do.”
Florence made haste to explain. “Oh, thank you, but this is just some fussy sewing that I have to do myself; I’m fixing over an old dress, and of all stupid tasks I consider that the worst.”
“It is pretty,” said her aunt, examining the goods with critical eye, “and the color just suits you, doesn’t it? You will have to hem it over again, won’t you? That is done by hand, of course?”
“I’m sorry to say that it is,” Florence admitted, with a sigh. “The machine won’t do for this thin stuff; I tried a little bit and it looked horrid.”
“Do you ever hem with ravellings? In goods of this kind they generally do nicely; here is a scrap that would be just right to ravel out; suppose I hem a little bit, and see if it looks well?”