'And such a scrap o' furniture! Well, well, well!' and the same ticking of
the tongue followed.
But, in a few minutes, back came Cousin Milly, and, with a barbarous
sort of curiosity, assisted in unpacking my trunks, and stowing away the
treasures, on which she ventured a variety of admiring criticisms, in the
presses which, like cupboards, filled recesses in the walls, with great oak
doors, the keys of which were in them.
As I was making my hurried toilet, she entertained me now and then with
more strictly personal criticisms.
'Your hair's a shade darker than mine--it's none the better o' that
though--is it? Mine's said to be the right shade. I don't know--what do you
say?'
I conceded the point with a good grace.
'I wish my hands was as white though--you do lick me there; but it's all
gloves, and I never could abide 'em. I think I'll try though--they _are_
very white, sure.'
'I wonder which is the prettiest, you or me? _I_ don't know, _I_'m
sure--which do _you_ think?'
I laughed outright at this challenge, and she blushed a little, and for the
first time seemed for a moment a little shy.
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