dress a matron proper."

Aunt Nancy, who had been sneezing furiously at her own impotence, now
found her speech again.

"We're a nice set ter talk erbout dewin' somethin'--a passel o' poor ole
critters like us!" Her cackle of embittered laughter was interrupted by
the low, cultivated voice of the belle of the Home, "Butterfly Blossy."

"We've _got_ to do something," said Blossy firmly.

When Blossy spoke with such decision, every one of the sisters pricked
up her ears. Blossy might be "a shaller-pate"; she might arrange the
golden-white hair of her head as befitted the crowning glory of a young
girl, with puffs and rolls and little curls, and--more than one sister
suspected--with the aid of "rats"; she might gown herself elaborately in
the mended finery of the long ago, the better years; she might dress her
lovely big room--the only double bedchamber in the house, for which she
had paid a double entrance fee--in all sorts of gewgaws, little
ornaments, hand-painted plaques of her own producing, lace bedspreads,
embroidered splashers and pillow-shams; she might even permit herself a
suitor who came twice a year more punctually than the line-storms, to
ask her withered little hand in marriage--but her heart was in the right
place, and on occasion she had proved herself a master hand at "fixin'
things."

"Yes," said she, rising to her feet and flinging out her arms with an
eloquent gesture, "we've got to do something, and there's just one thing
to do, girls: take the captain right here--here"--she brought her hands
to the laces on her bosom--"to our hearts!"