There was awe in
the kitchen as she held the brush, filled with colour, in the air, and
began to paint blue flowers on the dress.
At the first touch of the brush the old dressmaker clasped her hands.
"What is she doing, the English girl! And we who have kept it so
white...."
"Hush," said Fanny, stooping towards the bodice, "trust me!"
The children held their breath, except Elsa, who breathed so hard that
Fanny felt her hair stir on her neck. She covered the plain, tight-
waisted bodice with dancing flowers in blue and green.
On the frills of the skirt a dozen large flowers were painted as though
fallen from the bodice. Soon it was done.
"Like that! In five minutes!" groaned the dressmaker, troubled by the
peculiar growth of the flowers.
"Let it dry," said Fanny. "I'll go home and start doing my hair. Elsa
will bring it round when it's dry."
The old woman held out both her hands, in a gesture of mute
congratulation and fatigue.
"Now rest," said Fanny. "Now sleep--and in the morning I will come and
tell you all about it," and ran out into the snow.
* * * * *
The top hook of the bodice would not meet. With her heart in her mouth,
with despair, she pulled. Then sat down on the bed and stared blankly
before her.
"Then if _that_ won't meet, all, all the dress is wasted.
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