the floor,
on one side of her, were her best shoes, shrunk up and wrinkled and
covered with mud in the most extraordinary way. In another part of the
floor lay the unfortunate frock, all draggled and splashed round the
bottom, and, as Mrs. Fairchild could see without lifting it up, wanting
a part of one breadth. On the drawers was the bonnet, which was of
reeved crape made upon wire, and not one at all suited for a careless
girl; but it was made by a milliner at Plymouth. What with soaking,
crumpling, and here and there a rent from some bough, it had lost all
appearance of what it had been: it looked a heap of old crape gathered
carelessly together; and the pair of gloves, much in the state of the
shoes, were lying near the bonnet on the drawers.

"Oh, ma'am! Oh, Mrs. Fairchild!" cried the unfortunate Bessy, "what can
I do? What shall I do?"

Mrs. Fairchild lifted up the dress, but as hastily laid it down again,
for she saw it would take some hours to make it fit to be worn. The
bonnet, shoes, and gloves all equally required time and attention.

"I am afraid," she said kindly, "it will not do for you to attempt to
put on these things; and, what is worse, I have none that will fit you.
My dresses are as much too large as Lucy's are too small."

"Oh, do, dear Mrs. Fairchild," cried the sobbing Bessy, "at least, let
me try one of your gowns."

Though aware the attempt would be useless, the kind lady brought one of
her white dresses, to see if anyhow it could be made to fit; but even
Bessy, after a while, acknowledged it would not do, being so very much
too large for her.

Mrs. Fairchild next examined the young lady's everyday cotton; but,
alas! that was too dirty to think of its being shown beside the best
dresses of the other little misses. Then, too, if a dress could have
been procured, bonnet, shoes, and gloves would have also been
requisite; and these could not have been obtained even amongst Miss
Bessy's own clothes; for if her best were unfit to be seen, her
commoner ones were scarce worth picking up in the street.

"It will not do, I see," said Miss Bessy; "you had better go without
me, Mrs. Fairchild."

"I am afraid it must be as you say," replied that lady, "and most
sincerely sorry am I for you, my dear."

So saying, she left the room, and then came another burst of tears, and
more sobs, for three or four minutes afterwards.

Bessy, who still sat on the bed, heard the carriage drive away. "Oh,
how cr