township! How could she manage it?

The solution came to her with a shock of half-frightened excitement. It
was warm still, very warm, in the middle of the day; why shouldn't she
dress as for a dance, somethin' like it anyway, and go into George's
room to put it straight just before he came home from school? Her heart
beat quickly as she reflected. After all, what harm was there in it? She
recollected hearing that in the South all the girls wore low dresses in
summer, and she loved George, and she was sure he loved her. Any one
would do it, and no one would know. She resolved to try on the dress,
just to see how it suited her. There was no harm in that. She took off
her thin cotton gown quickly, and put on the ball-dress. But when she
had dragged the chest of drawers before the window and had propped up
the little glass on it to have a good look at herself, she grew hot. She
couldn't wear that, not in daylight; it looked, oh, it looked--and she
blushed crimson. Besides, the tulle was all frayed and faded. No, she
couldn't wear it! Oh!--and her eyes filled with tears of envy and
vexation. If only she were rich, like lots of other girls, she could
have all sorts of dresses. 'Twas unfair, so it was. She became desperate
with disappointment, and set her wits to work again. She had plenty of
time still. George wouldn't be back before twelve. She must choose a
dress he had never seen; then he wouldn't know but what she often wore
it so. Nervously, hurriedly, she selected a cotton frock, and before the
tiny glass pinned and arranged it over her shoulders and bust, higher
than the ball-dress, but still, lower than she had ever worn in the
daytime. She fashioned the garment with an instinctive sense of form
that a Parisian _couturiere_ might have envied, and went to work.
Her nimble fingers soon cut and sewed it to the style she had intended,
and then she tried it on. As she looked at herself in the mirror the
vision of her loveliness surprised and charmed her. She had drawn a blue