My dear mistress took me into her hands one day, and, after
examining me all over, said, with a sigh, "I cannot wear it any
longer; I must give it up." At last, her expression brightened and
she added, "I can give it to cousin Jane; I am very tall, and she is
very short. The skirt is good, and she can make a cloak of it; and
so my precious pelisse will still be where I can see it."

Forthwith I was sent to cousin Jane, with a very pretty note
explaining to her the reasons why her cousin took the liberty of
offering her the old pelisse. Cousin Jane wanted a cloak, and could
not afford to buy one; so I was carefully ripped up and turned, and
made into a very respectable garment.

Cousin Jane was a dressmaker; and, in her service, I learned
something of what dressmakers have to endure. She had not been long
engaged in her trade; and, at first, she would put me on in the
morning with a brisk, vigorous manner, but in the evening, when she
returned home, how differently she took me up! how differently she
threw me over her weary shoulders!

Soon she ceased to put me on in the morning in the same strong,
elastic manner, but took me up languidly, and as if she dreaded the
day, and, when she went into the air, wrapped me very closely about
her, just as if I was her only comfort, and pressed me to her heart,
as if in hopes it would ache less.

Poor dear cousin Jane, my heart aches to think of her. Day after
day, from morning till night, and often till the next day began, she
toiled and toiled, stooping over her work, sewing, sewing, hour