"Those are nicer than mine."

"These are th' ones tha' must put on," Martha answered. "Mr. Craven
ordered Mrs. Medlock to get 'em in London. He said 'I won't have a child
dressed in black wanderin' about like a lost soul,' he said. 'It'd make
the place sadder than it is. Put color on her.' Mother she said she knew
what he meant. Mother always knows what a body means. She doesn't hold
with black hersel'."

"I hate black things," said Mary.

The dressing process was one which taught them both something. Martha
had "buttoned up" her little sisters and brothers but she had never seen
a child who stood still and waited for another person to do things for
her as if she had neither hands nor feet of her own.

"Why doesn't tha' put on tha' own shoes?" she said when Mary quietly
held out her foot.

"My Ayah did it," answered Mary, staring. "It was the custom."

She said that very often--"It was the custom." The native servants were
always saying it. If one told them to do a thing their ancestors had not
done for a thousand years they gazed at one mildly and said, "It is not
the custom" and one knew that was the end of the matter.

It had not been the custom that Mistress Mary should do anything but
stand and allow herself to be dressed like a doll, but before she was
ready for breakfast she began to suspect that her life at Misselthwaite