Pretty soonly Hon. Annie B. Goblin (Miss), slightly spinster lady of detached age, arrive up to do this dressmake employment. Her complexion was concealed behind freckles. She might of been beautiful, had she not been homely.
This Miss Goblin lady understood international sewing to any extent. She could combine Irish lace, China silk and Persian embroidery on the same dress without the least race-riot. Few politicians can keep so many nationalities together calmly.
She were a very talented sewing-bee who never quit buzzing with conversations. She was one of them ladies what makes newspapers useless.
Last Thursday A. M. Hon. Mrs Smith give her $4.80 worth of Baptist silk and command her to create a dress to resemble Princess Patricia, so much as possible.
“At that price I can make you look like a Queen slightly marked down,” communicate Hon. Annie B. Goblin, making whizz with sew-wheel, at same time telling delicious society news with her pincushion voice.
“Mrs Horse W. Harvey hope to be a widow soon,” she report between stitches. “She has took up voice culture which must kill her husband with rapidity. She owe me $8.64 for two years and her Jewish lynx set is merely her husband’s fur overcoat warmed over.”
“I have long enjoyed that delicious suspicion,” deploy Mrs Jno W. Smith, who do not care for gossip, but merely stay near to oversea that job.
“Mrs van Swallow Tagg has a mortgage on her house which leaks,” continue on this sewing-wasp. “I am sorry for her peevish temper which is a disease. Her husband is a good man, but dishonest.”
“She wears her hats unbearably,” reproach Mrs Jno W.
“Mrs Cyrus Q. Bogle’s prominent Aunt Angelica drinks patent medicine for her rheumatism.”