Gypsy's Cousin Joy by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps
page 29 of 176 (16%)
page 29 of 176 (16%)
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course, but glad, in Gypsy's own generous fashion, that Joy had them.
"I had pretty enough things when you were in Boston," said Joy, unfolding her heavy black dresses with their plain folds of bombazine and crape. "Now I can't wear anything but this ugly black. Then there are all my corals and malachites just good for nothing. Madame St. Denisâshe's the dressmakerâsaid I couldn't wear a single thing but jet, and jet makes me look dreadfully brown." Gypsy hung up the dress that was in her hand and walked over to the window. She felt very much as if somebody had been drawing a file across her front teeth. She could not have explained what was the matter. Somehow she seemed to see a quick picture of her own mother dying and dead, and herself in the sad, dark dresses. And how Joy could speak soâhow she _could_! "Ohâonly two bureau drawers! Why didn't you give me the two upper ones?" said Joy, presently, when she was ready to put away her collars and boxes. "Because my things were in there," said Gypsy. "But your things were in the lower ones just as much." "I like the upper drawers best," said Gypsy, shortly. "So do I," retorted Joy. The hot color rushed over Gypsy's face for the second time, but now it |
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