"But, Ann dear," said Hermione, lifting her head and shaking it
ruefully, "I have--nothing! And my best dress--I made it in such a
hurry, you remember--it needs pressing and--"

"He ain't marryin' you fer your clo'es, Hermy--no, sir! It's you he
wants an'--oh, shucks! What do clo'es matter t' you, anyway? You was
meant to be one o' them nymphs an' goddesses as went about clad--well,
airy. You'd ha' done fine with them soft arms an' shoulders an'--"

"But I'm not a goddess, Ann, I'm only poor Hermy Chesterton--with a
hole in one stocking and the lace on her petticoat torn, and her other
things--well, look here!" and up whirled gown and petticoat, "see what a
state they're in--look, Ann!"

"My dear, I am!" nodded Mrs. Trapes over her teacup, "an' what I say is,
it don't matter a row o' pins if a stockin' 's got a bit of a hole in it
if that stockin' 's on sich a leg as that! An' as fer--"

"But," sighed Hermione, "don't you understand--"

"My dear, I do! I was a married woman once, mind. An' I tell you 'beauty
doth lie in the eye o' the beholder', my dear, an' the two eyes as is
a-goin' t' behold you this night is goin' t' behold so much beauty as
they won't behold nothin' else."

"But--he loves dainty things, I'm sure."

"Well, ain't he gettin' a dainty thing? Ain't he gettin' th' daintiest,
sweetest, loveliest--" Here Mrs. Trapes set down her cup again to clasp
Hermione in her arms.