She ripped off the coarse blue wrapper that enfolded her, and stood revealed in her little flannel under-bodice and linsey-woolsey petticoat of striped red and black, her thin girlish arms and young bosom making her look more childish than she did when fully clothed.  She held the gown above her head and struggled into it.  Her pale little face was red when she poked it triumphantly through the narrow opening and finally settled the neck, with its ruffled cambric frilling, round her throat, and pulled the puff sleeves as far as they would go down her arms in a vain attempt to make them conceal her red young girl’s elbows.  She could only see a small portion of herself at a time in the little mirror, yet that small portion, in spite of the skimpiness and yellowness of the gown, pleased her eye.

For her dark tints were set off by the creamy folds, her slight shape revealed by the tight bodice, even her bare feet, which some fine prompting had made her wash carefully lest they should shame this essay, looked small and graceful beneath the full folds.

But she could not dance in the Flora unshod, and so once again she bent to the sea-chest, and withdrew her only pair of shoes, bought for her in a generous moment last Michaelmas by Aunt Senath.  She pulled on her Sunday pair of white cotton stockings, and then the stout shoes.  They still fitted, and to her country eye looked well enough.  She examined herself bit by bit in the mirror, from her smooth black head to her smooth black feet, and all the faintly yellowed linen that curved in and swelled out between.

She was fair to look upon, not so much the mirror as her own awakened consciousness told her that.  She was meet to dance with Miss Le Pettit at the Flora, could she but obtain one thing more—­the white satin sash.

CHAPTER VI:  IN WHICH LOVEDAY ESSAYS TO OBTAIN THE WHITE SATIN RIBAND

Chapter VI

IN WHICH LOVEDAY ESSAYS TO OBTAIN THE WHITE SATIN RIBAND

With a high heart Loveday began her quest for the work which was to earn for her the coveted white satin sash.  She had but three weeks in which to make a matter of several shillings, and this meant that she must sell every moment of the time which was hers when her duties about her aunt’s were discharged for the day.  In the morning she was busy with cleaning and cooking till almost mid-day, and in the evenings she had the milk to fetch, but in the afternoons she could be sure of a few hours if Aunt Senath did not guess she wanted them for herself and invent tasks.  On Mondays, of course, the washing kept her all day at the tub, and on Fridays at the mangle, on Saturdays there was the baking of the bread, while Thursday, being market day, she was supposed to keep house while Aunt Senath went in to Bugletown—­a task that slut of a woman was too fond of for its chances