A drooping daisy changed into a cup, In which her bright-eyed beauty is shut up. WORDSWORTH.
“So there you are up for the day--really you look very comfortable,” said Ethel, coming into the room where Margaret lay on her bed, half-raised by pillows, supported by a wooden frame.
“Yes, is not it a charming contrivance of Richard’s? It quite gives me the use of my hands,” said Margaret.
“I think he is doing something else for you,” said Ethel; “I heard him carpentering at six o’clock this morning, but I suppose it is to be a secret.”
“And don’t you admire her night-cap?” said Flora.
“Is it anything different?” said Ethel, peering closer. “Oh, I see--so she has a fine day night-cap. Is that your taste, Flora?”
“Partly,” said Margaret, “and partly my own. I put in all these little white puffs, and I hope you think they do me credit. Wasn’t it grand of me?”
“She only despises you for them,” said Flora.
“I’m very glad you could,” said Ethel, gravely; “but do you know? it is rather like that horrid old lady in some book, who had a paralytic stroke, and the first thing she did that showed she had come to her senses was to write, ‘Rose-coloured curtains for the doctors.’”
“Well, it was for the doctor,” said Margaret, “and it had its effect. He told me I looked much better when he found me trying it on.”
“And did you really have the looking-glass and try it on?” cried Ethel.
“Yes, really,” said Flora. “Don’t you think one may as well be fit to be seen if one is ill? It is no use to depress one’s friends by being more forlorn and disconsolate than one can help.”
“No--not disconsolate,” said Ethel; “but the white puffiness--and the hemming--and the glass!”
“Poor Ethel can’t get over it,” said Margaret. “But, Ethel, do you think there is nothing disconsolate in untidiness?”
“You could be tidy without the little puffs! Your first bit of work too! Don’t think I’m tiresome. If they were an amusement to you, I am sure I am very glad of them, but I can’t see the sense of them.”
“Poor little things!” said Margaret laughing. “It is only my foible for making a thing look nice. And, Ethel,” she added, drawing her down close over her, “I did not think the trouble wasted, if seeing me look fresher cheered up dear papa a moment.”