"And stays, my dear, and a modesty fence," cried Miss Wynne, holding them up. "You will have to fatten, Pearl."
Upon this the young man considered it as well to retire. He went down-stairs unmissed, thinking of the agreeable intimacy of stays with the fair figure he left bending over the trunk, a mass of black lace in her hand.
"She threw the fairy tissue about Pearl's head, smiling as she considered the effect"
"Spanish, my dear," said Madame, with animation; "quite a wonder. Oh, rare, very rare. Not quite fit for a young woman—a head veil."
"Are they all mine, Mother?" cried Margaret.
"Yes, my child."
"Then, Madame," she said, with rising color and engaging frankness, "may I not have the honor to offer thee the lace?"