like: How could he? I know I'm an old SIGHT, but all I want is
to look respectable. Do I?"

"You look like the best woman in the world; that's all!" Alice
said, with a little gulp.

Her mother laughed and gave her a final scrutiny. "You might use
just a tiny bit more colour, dearie--I'm afraid the excitement's
made you a little pale. And you MUST brighten up! There's sort
of a look in your eyes as if you'd got in a trance and couldn't
get out. You've had it all day. I must run: your father wants
me to help him with his studs. Walter hasn't come yet, but I'll
look after him; don't worry, And you better HURRY, dearie, if
you're going to take any time fixing the flowers on the table."

She departed, while Alice sat at the mirror again, to follow her
advice concerning a "tiny bit more colour." Before she had
finished, her father knocked at the door, and, when she
responded, came in. He was dressed in the clothes his wife had
pressed; but he had lost substantially in weight since they were
made for him; no one would have thought that they had been
pressed. They hung from him voluminously, seeming to be the
clothes of a larger man.

"Your mother's gone downstairs," he said, in a voice of distress.

"One of the buttonholes in my shirt is too large and I can't keep
the dang thing fastened. _I_ don't know what to do about it! I
only got one other white shirt, and it's kind of ruined: I tried
it before I did this one. Do you s'pose you could do anything?"