A dressing-table, a wardrobe, and a
dresser-sideboard fitted with lockers occupied one side; along the other
ran a couch with a padded back, which, let down, became a mattress and
converted the couch into a bed. All the lockers gleamed with brasswork;
all the draperies were of muslin or dimity, immaculately white; and
looking-glass panelled the doors of every cupboard. These many mirrors
caused the interior to appear even fuller of the Fat Lady than it
actually was. They reflected her from every angle, and multiplied her
into a crowd.
"Dear me!" she said, glancing around on these reflections, "I'll have to
turn you out again while I undress. But that won't take long, and
you'll be safe enough beneath the van."
So after providing them with a hunk of cake apiece from one of the
sideboard lockers, and peeping forth to make sure the coast was clear,
she dismissed them with instructions to creep into the darkness under
the steps, and there lie quiet until she summoned them.
Ten minutes later she leaned forth again and called "Coo-ee!" very
softly, and they returned to find her in the white bed, recumbent in a
coquettish nightgown. She had folded and stowed her day garments away--
Tilda could not imagine where--and a mattress and rugs lay on the floor,
ready spread for the children.
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