Light O The Morning | Page 9

sensitive to incongruity in dress.
"Yes, I am," said Biddy. "How can I see your lady-mother in this style
of thing?"
She went and stood in front of Nora with her arms akimbo.
"Look," she said, "my frock has a rent from here to here, and this
petticoat is none of the best, and my stockings--well, I know it is my
own fault, but I _won't_ darn them, and there is a great hole just above
the heel. Now, this skirt will hide all blemishes."
"But what will your mother say?"
"Bless her!" said Biddy, "she won't even notice. Here, let's whip on the
dress."
She hastily divested herself of her ragged cotton skirt, and put on the
pale blue with the dirty silk flounces.
"What are you looking so grave for?" she said, glancing up at Nora. "I
declare you're too stately for anything, Nora O'Shanaghgan! You stand
there, and I know you criticise me."
"No; I love you too much," replied Nora. "You are Biddy Murphy, one
of my greatest friends."
"Ah, it's sweet to hear her," said Biddy.
"But, all the same," continued Nora, "I don't like that dress, and it's
terribly unsuitable. You don't look ladylike in it."
"Ladylike, and I with the blood of----"
"Oh, don't begin that," said Nora; "every time I see you you mention
that fact. I have not the slightest doubt that the old kings were ruffians,
and dressed abominably."
"If you dare," said Biddy. She rushed up to the bed, dragged out her
pillow, and held it in a warlike attitude. "Another word about my
ancestors, and this will be at your devoted head!" she cried.
Nora burst into a merry laugh.
"There, now, that's better," said Biddy. She dropped the pillow and
proceeded with her toilet. The dirty skirt with its tawdry flounces was
surmounted by a bodice of the same material, equally unsuitable.
Biddy brushed out her mop of jet-black hair, which grew in thick curls
all over her head and stood out like a mop round her shoulders. She
was a plain girl, with small, very black eyes, a turned-up nose, and a

wide mouth; but there was an irresistible expression of drollery in her
face, and when she laughed, showing her milk-white teeth, there were
people who even thought her attractive. Nora really loved her, although
the two, standing side by side, were, as far as appearances were
concerned, as the poles asunder.
"Now, come along," said Biddy. "I know I look perfectly charming. Oh,
what a sweet, sweet blue it is, and these ducky little flounces! It was
Aunt Mary O'Flannagan sent me this dress at Christmas. She wore it at
a fancy ball, and said it might suit me. It does, down to the ground. Let
me drop a courtesy to you, Nora O'Shanaghgan. Oh, how proper we
look! But I don't care! Now I'm not afraid to face anyone--why, the old
kings would have been proud of me. Come along--do."
She caught Nora's hand; they dashed down the wide, carpetless stairs,
crossed a huge hall, and entered a room which was known as the
drawing room at Cronane. It was an enormous apartment, but bore the
same traces of neglect and dirt which the whole of the rest of the house
testified to. The paper on the walls was moldy in patches, and in one or
two places it had detached itself from the wall and fell in great sheets to
the ground. One loose piece of paper was tacked up with two or three
huge tacks, and bulged out, swaying with the slightest breeze. The
carpet, which covered the entire floor, was worn threadbare; but, to
make up for these defects, there were cabinets of the rarest and most
exquisite old china, some of the pieces being worth fabulous sums.
Vases of the same china adorned the tall marble mantelpiece, and stood
on brackets here and there about the room. There were also some
exquisite and wonderfully carved oak, a Queen Anne sofa, and several
spindle-legged chairs. An old spinet stood in a distant window, and the
drab moreen curtains had once been handsome.
Standing on the hearth, with his elbow resting on the marble
mantelpiece close to a unique vase of antique design, stood Squire
O'Shanaghgan. He was talking in pleasant and genial tones to Mrs.
Murphy, a podgy little woman, with a great likeness to Biddy.
Mrs. Murphy wore a black alpaca dress and a little three-cornered
knitted shawl across her shoulders. She had gray hair, which curled
tightly like her daughter's; on top of it was a cap formed of rusty black
velvet and equally rusty black lace. She looked much excited at the
advent of the Squire, and her cheeks testified to the fact by the

brightness of their color.