She found Mrs. Richards standing in the middle of the floor, holding up the unfinished dress in both hands, and inspecting it with no pleasant expression of countenance. She glanced at the young girl as she entered, and as her keen eyes ran over her dainty figure in its new and tasteful garment, her face grew dark. Star bade her a courteous “good-morning,” but she did not even deign to notice the salutation. “Who trimmed these dresses?” she demanded, sharply. “I did,” Star answered. “Who told you to do it?” “No one, marm; but I like things made pretty, and as there were plenty of pieces which could not be used in any other way, I made them up into ruffles.” Star spoke very quietly, but a bright red spot burned on either cheek. “You like ‘things pretty,’ do you? And that is the way you calculate to spend your time in this house, I suppose?” Mrs. Richards retorted, sarcastically. She received no reply, and continued: “The pieces you have cut up into senseless ruffles I intended you should make into patch-work for the servants’ beds during your odd minutes.” Star glanced at the numerous “senseless ruffles” which encircled the indignant matron’s ample figure, and thought there might be such a thing as a distinction without a difference. “I’ve half a mind to make you sit right down and rip off every one,” Mrs. Richards proceeded, still chafing over the matter, and flushing as she noticed Star’s glance and half read her thought. “The idea of a chambermaid with ruffles and furbelows! And I do believe that seamstress has made your dress so tight that you cannot breathe,” she concluded, pouncing upon the poor girl to make an examination of the offensive robe, for the slight, graceful figure before her was not at all pleasing to her. “No, marm, my dress is not tight; it only fits me nicely;” and Star’s slender fingers laid over quite a plait, thus showing that there was plenty of room for inflating her lungs to their utmost capacity. “Then you are laced,” persisted madam. “Laced?” repeated Star, who did not quite understand the obnoxious term. “Yes; your corsets are too tight.” “Oh! I never wear corsets; mamma did not approve of them.” Mrs. Richards bit her lips and colored with vexation. She was not showing to advantage in this controversy. It was clear that Star’s perfect form was the work of nature’s own hand, and she would be obliged to put up with it, unless she tied her up in a sack to hide its comely outlines. “Well,” she said, throwing aside the dress she had been examining, “I want you to come with me now; I am going to assign you your regular work. For one thing, you are to make all the beds in the house, except those in the servants’ rooms; then you are to keep Josephine’s and mine in order, wait upon us generally, and sew when there is nothing else to be done.”