"Yes. They were not worth the trouble. Mademoiselle Adelaide made us
wear Lille thread on dancing-days that we might never want stockings to
mend. She had a passion for darning. She taught us to graft also: you
will find one pair of black silk grafted toe and heel. I have thought
them much too precious ever to wear since. I keep them for a curiosity."
On the tables in Bessie's sitting-room were set out her humble
appliances for work, for writing--an enamelled white box with cut-steel
ornaments, much scratched; a capacious oval basket with a quilted red
silk cover, much faded; a limp Russia-leather blotting-book wrapped in
silver paper (Harry Musgrave had presented it to Bessie on her going
into exile, and she had cherished it too dearly to expose it to the risk
of blots at school). "I think," said she, "I shall begin to use it now."
She released it from its envelope, smelt it, and laid it down
comfortably in front of the Sevres china inkstand. All the permanent
furniture of the writing-table was of Sevres china. Bessie thought it
grotesque, and had no notion of the value of it.
"The big basket may be put aside?" suggested Mrs. Betts, and her young
lady did not gainsay her. But when the shabby little white enamelled box
was threatened, she commanded that that should be left--she had had it
so long she could not bear to part with it. It had been the joint-gift
of Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie on her twelfth birthday.
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