Young women -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
"Oh, oh, oh! You wicked girl! you hateful, detestable girl! You did it
on purpose, because you were in a temper! You have been in a temper all
the afternoon! You have spoiled my dress! I was weady to go
downstairs. It is eight o'clock. In a few minutes everyone will be
here, and oh, what shall I do--what shall I do! Whatever will mother
say when she sees me?"
As if to give a practical answer to this inquiry, there came a sound of
hasty footsteps in the corridor, the door flew open, and Lady Darcy
rushed in, followed by the French maid.
"My darling, what is it? I heard your voice. Has something happened?
Oh-h!" She stopped short, paralysed with consternation, while the maid
wrung her hands in despair. "Rosalind, what _have_ you done to
yourself?"
"Nothing, nothing! It was Peggy Saville; she splashed me with her
horrid boot-polish--I gave it to her for her shoes. It is on my face,
my neck, in my mouth--"
"I was pulling the cork. It came out with a jerk. I didn't know; I
didn't see!--"
Lady Darcy's face stiffened with an expression of icy displeasure.
"It is too annoying! Your dress spoiled at the last moment!
Inexcusable carelessness! What is to be done, Marie? I am in despair!"
The Frenchwoman shrugged her shoulders with an indignant glance in
Peggy's direction.
"There is nothing to do. Put on another dress--that is all.
Mademoiselle must change as quick as she can. If I sponge the spots, I
spoil the whole thing at once."
"But you could cut them out, couldn't you?" cried Peggy, the picture of
woe, yet miserably eager to make what amends she could. "You could cut
out the spots with sharp scissors, and the holes would not show, for the
chiffon is so full and loose. I--I think I could do it, if you would
let me try!"
Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman
nodded slowly.
"Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time,
but still it can be done. It is the best plan."
"Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and
for pity's sake don't cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now
the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive
your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no
help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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