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Dot, Dorothea, and Dick Chapter One Dear sister: I found this letter among some others, scrolled up and tied with purple ribbon, in a chest belonging to our great grandfather. The name Charles has belonged to several in our family line, but I believe I know the one who received and saved this letter, and kept it preserved for so many years. I believe the letter speaks for itself, so I will now offer it up to you. Dearest Charles: I hope this missive finds you in such good health and bright humour as I know you cherish for me. I do well enough here; my companions, although frequently lethargic, are well bred and congenial in all points. We all miss the comforting balm of regular human companionship, for, other than the staff and one another, we have none at all. Yet I fancy in my conceit that my longing for you exceeds that of any longings indulged by my fellows as we reside here in splendid isolation. You have said that you entertain hopes of my eventual recovery; this speaks well of your kind spirit, my friend, but we both know the doctors share not in your optimism. Your letters warm me inside and out, which is well since I so often feel a chill. It may be the bracing sea air of the Atlantic here in the Maritime Provinces, but I fear it is merely a symptom of my dread condition. Although they often roll us out in our chairs to "take the airs," we are thoroughly bundled up with coats and lap robes and muffs and all, yet each of us feels the chill, more perhaps within ourselves than through any external influence. Have you seen the old place? How dear it was to me. It was there you would read to me, in my private walled garden, my sanctum sanctorum. I feared to kiss you; you above all others should best know why. Yet I suffered you to hold and comfort me, and the joys of that intimacy I shall ever keep in memory. I hope the new owners are kind to the place. I hope they feed the birds, and water the roses, and oh I hope they do not disturb the resting place of poor Dot. You laughed at my sentiment, when during one of your visits you caught me laying a wreath of my precious blooms on her grave, but you endured my folly then and eventually came to share my sentiments for the poor creature. For, as you know, there once was a lovely porcelain bisque doll in that house, a doll just the size of her owner, and the doll and her owner shared their days and their isolation. The girl was Dorothea, and the doll was (using Nurse's pet name for the child as well) Dot. And it is to that point I wish to speak now. You say you wish to hold yourself apart from society, especially the society of young ladies, in hopes of our eventual reunion. You are very dear to me. You have already given up, for many years now, the rounds of soirees and entertainments most suitable to young men of your age and station, out of consideration for me, since I could not enjoy them with you. It is because of your wish that I feel moved now to share a story with you, a story as private as the walled garden which you erstwhile graced with your presence, and where I spent so many hours, and years. The story is of Dorothea and Dot, and one other. Dorothea was a happy child, one who loved to go to the parish cakes and ales, and the local fairs, and to be given pony chaise rides, and go punting on the waterways of our district. She loved the open air, and the sweet breezes, and of course the many gardens. But into those bright colourful days a dark cloud intruded, a festering spot that blotted out the sun and never after departed. Dorothea fell ill. She coughed, and red spots appeared on her handkerchief. The doctors sighed and shook their heads; "Consumption" was all they said. Gone then were the fairs, the cakes and ales, the boats, the open air. In their place dark walls reared their heads. The girl must be isolated, as much for the sake of others as for her own. The place prepared was fine enough in its way. The house itself was private, set apart from other habitation by extensive grounds. The girl had fine rooms, and Nurse could not have been any better, she was a treasure. She saw Father and Mother once a day, after dinner, which was the custom in most homes at that time. They did not reject her, it was simply thought that children were not fit company for adults. Mother also saw to it that even though no more friends came to call, out of fear of the dread disease, there should still be one companion, a lovely girl with blue eyes and auburn hair, identical to Dorothea. She sent to Germany, where the finest porcelain dolls were made. This doll was not to have the translucent skin of the porcelain dolls, but the more porous texture of bisque, so similar to human skin in appearance, and even to the touch. Her head was crowned with billows of lustrous human hair, an elaborate wig. Real hair formed the lashes of her eyes, and the gracefully arched brows above them. Her delicate mouth seemed about to part its pink lips and speak. She was Dot. Dot could sit her stuffed cloth body at table with Dorothea and the two could share tea together. She could stand, if suitably propped up against the furniture. The two could be twins. If Dorothea wore her pinafore one day, then Dot would wear her own, its identical twin. If Dorothea preferred the silk blouse with green piping, Dot would echo her. At eventide the two would retire in nightgowns of the same fashion; there was not a hair's difference between the one and the other. There can be no doubt that Dorothea loved Dot with all the affection a loving child can lavish upon her only companion. It was sad that Dot could never by word or gesture return such loving attention. Other than Nurse and Dot, Dorothea's only companion was Doctor. He was most gentle with her, and never behaved toward her as if he in any way feared contagion. "I have been with too many of the ill to possess any fears," he told her. "It may be that Providence has endowed me with the ability to resist some if not all of these conditions." He encouraged her to eat, since she had become thin and frail. He discovered her favorite treats, and arranged that they be given her on a regular basis. She tried to oblige him by enjoying them but her appetite often would not cooperate. Dorothea and Dot loved to sit on a bench in the walled garden and watch the birds come and go. Sometimes the girl would toss breadcrumbs for them, while Dot would watch. One day they were amusing themselves in this way, when the oddest thing happened! The bushes at the bottom of one section of the wall began to wiggle, and some dirt flew about, and then a grubby hand appeared, as if a human hand were crawling out of a rabbit hole! The hand was followed by an arm, and then the grubbiest of all possible faces, a face in which dirt seemed to have been applied over other dirt, as the mason will trowel mortar upon the stones. A mouth opened within the face. "Hullo," it said. "Don't be alarmed, I'm not a robber or any such person. I just saw a rabbit pop out of the other side of this wall, and thought it might be fun to investigate, and the hole was larger than I expected so I kept digging, and...here I am!" Dorothea, poor dear, was in a dreadful dilemma. What she had longed for more than anything in her isolation was the joy of human company. Yet she was quite aware that simply by being near her this soiled creature could become fatally ill. "Pleased to meet you I'm sure," she said politely. "But I've got consumption, you know." "Aw, worse luck then," the mouth declared. "My mum had that, and died of it, and her mum too, and she died of it too. But I never did die yet for all that. So maybe I won't die from you either. Say, are those biscuits you two are having?" The voice sounded hungry, even famished. "We two?" The girl looked around, and then laughed. "Oh you mean Dot! Although she is my friend, I fear she seldom enjoys my food. But since I do have enough for two, won't you join me?" "Ah, I'm a bit out of form at the moment miss, you see, I could use a bathe, if you have a basin handy...?" "Hmm," she mused. And then, "Would you mind sharing your bathe with the birds? Otherwise I am afraid that the only basin is my own and it perhaps would be injurious to you despite your confidence in your healthiness." So saying, she walked over to the bird bath, which was filled with fresh water. She walked to her rooms and came back with a cloth and placed it there in the water. The creature from the rabbit hole expressed gratitude and began washing face and hands as thoroughly as might be. Eventually human features were revealed, sufficient for purposes of identification. "Why, you're a boy!" she exclaimed. He bowed. "So's half the world, miss. It should be no great shock." She laughed, quietly, then coughed but invited him to share the bench and the biscuits. For as hungry as he seemed, the boy ate with impeccable manners, and after he had found and consumed the very last crumb, he thanked her most politely. "I am no longer permitted to go beyond these walls," she confessed, "and I would dearly love to know what goes on out there in that world. Can you tell me? How is life for those who are not confined as I am?" He looked at her soberly. "There may be more than one form of confinement, miss. Although I can roam freely, I am confined by the walls of want and deprivation. But what my words can show you, I will tell." He identified himself as Dick. His father had been a porter and his mother a seamstress. They had their own apartments in the mews, filled with cats and dogs running about, and the rough sort of lads who are always being chased out of one shop after another. He told her of the parish church, and its quiet churchyard and the moss on the trees; of the poor kindly old vicar with his elbows worn out; of the greengrocer who would pretend to drop an apple and leave it there just for Tom to pick up; of the merchant who always had candle stubs in his trash which were still large enough to burn; of rolling hoops down the bumpy alleyways; of playing at cards with his parents by the light of those candle stubs. Tom's family had coal enough for their little stove, and tea enough for the kettle, and bacon enough to make you wish for a bit more. They had each other, and were content. But then his father, who carried heavy weights for a living as a porter would, of course, had the misfortune to miss his footing coming down a narrow lane in the rain. He fell over a low wall, and broke his neck. They buried him among the paupers' graves behind the churchyard proper. After that, things were desperate. Tom was young as could be, but he ran errands for whatever coins people were willing to give. He ran alongside the railroad track and picked up loose lumps of coal for their stove. He rummaged in the ash bins and refuse piles of the back alleys for whatever was not too spoiled to be used, whether for food or clothing or any other purpose. For one year, including an especially brutal winter, he helped his mother keep house and keep themselves alive. Then she began to cough, and spit up blood. She knew the signs; consumption had killed her mother. "Dick, I love you," she said one day. "In a sock under the tick on my bed is some money. Get me some brandy with it will you? And keep the rest for yourself, for you will be needing it." Tom cried. They had not even spent this last little nest egg to bury his dad; he knew by this sign that the end was near. His mom had been getting thinner, and could not take much brandy at one time, but she did sip away at it, and it seemed to comfort her. When the brandy had finally been used up, so was she. "I remember, it was Ascension Sunday" the boy related. "The vicar used to read to me, and I learned a lot about books and language from him, although the nice ladies of the parish scathed him for it. He said that this was the Sunday when Jesus was taken up into heaven, and he was sure that the same had happened to my mum, and she was up there right then with the Lord." He sniffled a little at the thought. "Without mum's work there was no way I could afford any rent at all, so I had to sell off all our goods except for what I could carry slung over my back. I learned to make friends of a sort here and there, and eat whatever did not make me sick, and I still worked as honestly as I could and lied when people asked me about my parents, and I made shelter in sheds and under carts and wherever. I did steal some things. I am not proud of it; I just wanted to live. I stole our old coal stove, which belonged to the landlady. Eventually I found a house near the mews that had been abandoned after a fire; it still had three walls and part of the roof. I hid there with my stove, concealing its smoke as much as I could, and never lit a candle or made any light. I propped up a rusty old bed against one corner and draped carpet over it and filled the space in there with rags; it was warm enough even in bad weather, just so I did not catch anything on fire with my stove." The poor boy! Dorothea's eyes brimmed with tears. She had thought her lot a hard one, yet she had never lacked for anything other than strength and companionship. "That was two winters ago," Dick went on. "I made my living by my wits. I had many close scrapes but survived each one. Finally whoever held title to that burned house decided to have it rased, and I had no word of it and had to clear out with nothing but the clothes on my back. So I was looking for new digs, and when I saw the rabbit I figured maybe a place that lets rabbits dig under the walls might be abandoned and I could make my home here." He shrugged. Dorothea looked at him and brooded for a moment. "Are you feeling sick?" she asked. "Not at all. I suppose if I haven't died yet after all I've gone through, I'm not likely to die soon." She nodded thoughtfully. "Nobody ever comes to see me, for fear of catching my illness" she stated. "I am as lonely as can be. You need a place to stay. Maybe we can hide you here somewhere? If you start to cough or anything you can go straight away. What do you say?" The boy knew from experience that by the time you start to cough it is likely already too late, but he was desperate and besides, he trusted his luck. "Deal," he declared. "I swear it on my mum's grave, I'll never complain or give any trouble, and whatever you command I shall obey." She gave a slight smile. "Like my noble knight!" she replied. "Very well, let us see what hiding places my rooms offer." She led the way and he, obedient as promised, followed. But when they came to the French doors which led in to her quarters, the boy hesitated. "Everything in here is so fine," he whispered. "Whatever I touch will become soiled. Not only will I spoil your place, but anyone who enters will know some dirty creature has been there. That, of course, would have to mean a stranger." He hung his head. But the girl said, "Very well, just for now we will hide you in the potting shed. We do not have a full time gardener, just occasionally a special hire. While you are there, we can use water from the rainbarrel to give you a proper wash-up. And, would you please call me Dot?" "Righty-o! And who is your friend?" "She's really Dot but can you please call her Dorothea? My real name is so stuffy sounding, and I love the way Nurse calls me Dot, it feels so friendly." So from that day the names were changed, as far as the three of them were concerned. Dick remained Dick, but Dot was now Dorothea and Dorothea was Dot. That evening at twilight she crept out to the shed with food and tea. Tom said his thank-yous very nicely but devoured his provisions like a wolf. Dot noticed that his clothes were hanging loosely from his frame. If they once had fit him, he must have lost considerable weight from his hard life in the back alleys. She had also brought an extra blanket and pillow. He rubbed his face in the pillow and smiled. "I haven't had a real pillow in ever so long," he murmured. Dot just beamed. Surely there could be nothing wrong with helping out this stray child; she felt so benevolent. Next morning when Nurse came to bathe her and remove last night's dishes, she exclaimed "Heavens! I haven't seen you eat so well in years! Are you feeling better, my dear?" And Dot smiled at her but said nothing, keeping her thoughts to herself. Nurse, encouraged by this apparent change, brought bread and butter and marmalade, and tea with cream and sugar. Dot made a good show of enjoying it as best she could, but as soon as she was alone she slipped out again to the shed to share her treats. "I'll bet you might think a lad like me has never had marmalade, but you'd be wrong!" Dick exclaimed with his mouth full. "Three years ago Christmas, I had some at the vicarage. Good? Wasn't it just, though!" And they both smiled broadly, but perhaps for different reasons. After that, Dick would spend his days in the shed, and in the gloaming Dot would appear with food and they would visit. She and he both napped at midday in order to save more time for their nightly chats. In that mild time of year their hours of safety, when they would not likely be discovered, were limited, but they cherished them all the more. While they could still make out objects in the dimming light, they would arrange a little garden near the shed, with flowers and other growing things transplanted there from other parts of the garden. They made a village of sticks and stones, with moss for grassy lawns, and pine sprigs for trees. They enacted dramas in their little village. They dug a little pool in the centre to be a lake, and filled it with water from the birdbath. They made boats of leaves, and Dot would imagine she was punting once more. Dorothea accompanied them at their playtimes, but remained a silent spectator. Mother and Father were delighted. Their child was exhibiting new signs of appetite, and surely there was a new spring in her step and a new light in her eyes. True, she had not filled out yet, but were there not signs of hope? Then the evenings lengthened and became chill. For a short while the children were delighted, since this meant more time for their evening play together. Soon however not even an extra blanket for the boy could ward off the cold. They took thought to other arrangements to see them through the oncoming winter. Dick had by now been thoroughly washed of his original grime. He had put the birdbath to good use, and caught occasional rainwater in a bucket from his shed as well, so that he resembled any properly bred child. His clothing had been filthy and there was no discrete way to launder it, so the children had taken old sheets and formed them into robes and pantaloons for him, using pins and rather poorly basted stitching. He looked like some adventurer returned from Arabia, needing only the keffiyeh. One unfortunate side effect of cleanliness and the wearing of sheetcloth was to render him easily visible even in the twilight, and so the children had to always be on guard as they played. Now they were especially wary as they crept into the house, looking for a suitable hiding place where Dick might hibernate. Nurse went through Dot's closets to select outfits each day so he could not stay in there. He could not live in the commode since she simply used a chamber pot. There was a sort of parlor attached to her bedroom, and a small library, making altogether a little suite. Those two room possessed tables and chairs and a settee, but no place of concealment. Finally Dot hit on the solution. "My bed is raised above the floor high enough to give you ample room beneath it," she declared, "and you would be hidden by the parmentage, the dust ruffle." "What if Nurse changes your sheets, won't she notice?" "She does not often change the dust ruffle when she brings new sheets, it just stays there. Truth to tell, she rather resents that part of her work since she considers it more fit for the upstairs maid, but the maids refuse to enter my rooms for fear of contagion. So you should be safe enough." And so it was decided. Dick even got some old clothing bundled together to use as a tick; it was as comfortable as any bed he had enjoyed in the past several years, or more so. At first Nurse was concerned that the chamber pot seemed fuller every morning than it had used to be, but then she considered that after all the dear little girl did seem to be eating better these days so of course there would be more offal. Now of an evening he would crawl out and the two would read to each other from books in her library. They both delighted in the myths and fables found in Bullfinch, and imagined themselves playing the parts of the ancients. Dick was a surprisingly apt reader, thanks to the efforts of the old vicar, and books had been a favorite means of mental escape for the invalid girl. They also used card stock to create a castle and outbuildings on the library table, with crenellated walls and a moat (of paper) and drawbridge. Dot also had a Noah's ark with little animal figures carved of wood and painted; with these they would at times populate their castle and create a fantasy kingdom of the animals. The lions were king and queen, naturally enough, and the horses were their noble knights. Swans were ladies of court. Zebras were knights from another country, sometimes jousting or battling with the knights of the kingdom, and at other times enjoying royal hospitality and swapping war stories. As in the summer, Dorothea was included in their play. In some ways she made a fine extra companion, since she ate little and never interrupted. One morning, after Nurse had left, Dot was sharing her bit of porridge with Dick. He ate after her, using the same utensils since to do otherwise would raise suspicion. He wiped the spoon first but they both knew the practice was unsanitary. Just then they heard a bustling in the hallway, and a rapping on her chamber door! "Dorothea, it is I, your good Doctor! May I enter?" And without even awaiting permission, in he came just a split second after Dick had dived under the bed. Doctor examined Dot thoroughly, listening to her chest, looking inside her mouth as if she were a horse and he a buyer, weighing her upon a set of scales. "Hmm, ha," he murmured. "We are all glad to see you showing signs of renewed vigor young lady, and surely your appetite has increased. But your lung function is still weak, and I am grieved to report that you have not yet regained any weight. How can you account for this, that you are eating better yet not gaining?" The girl shrugged. "I am no physician" she stated simply. "I imagine my disease must be eating away any weight I try to put on?" But the doctor shook his head. "It is most odd. I have other consumptive patients, and too few ever do regain their appetite, but for those few, weight gain soon follows. All except you." "ACHOO!" For the very reason cited by Dot, that no one often attended to the dust ruffle, it had been faithfully doing its job of collecting dust, and despite heroic efforts, Dick could not help sneezing at this least opportune of times. The doctor startled. "What was that?" "Er, achoo?" said the girl weakly. Clearly she could not imitate the vigor of that sternutation. Her guest looked about the room, his keen eyes squinting shrewdly. Finally he noticed that one section of the dust ruffle on the bed was less dusty than the rest. Quietly he approached. "Oh please don't!" Dot begged. With finger to his lips urging her to silence, he pounced, reaching beneath the bed and grabbing Dick out by the ankle. The boy presented an odd sight, a rather dusty bedraggled Arab with a runny nose. "What have we here? An intruder, eh?" Dot placed herself defiantly under the doctor's chin. "He is my friend! Unhand him this instant!" She spoke with the air of authority of one accustomed to be obeyed. Doctor was, after all, an employee. He eyed her with curiousity and amusement as he released Dick and sat himself down on the bed. "It is my assigned duty, young lady, to keep you from physical harm, as much as I am able. Therefore I feel I deserve an explanation." So, having no alternative, she told him all. The physician nodded his head, looking from one child to the other, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Young man, you do realize that this escapade could cost you your life, do you not? Dorothea is isolated here for a reason. You may already be infected. Please allow me to examine you." And he undressed the lad, who blushed becomingly as the venerable physician listened to the boy's chest and examined his skin all over. "Remarkable. Nine months exposure yet no sign at all of any infection. You did say that your mother and her mother both succumbed; perhaps you are blessed with some resistance to the disease. Remarkable." The doctor then made a remarkable statement. "Young lady, I owe you a great deal. Because of a slip of the knife, I lost a prominent client and a great deal of my once prominent practice. Your apparent resiliency has brought me new custom, and for that I am grateful. I see now that the cause of your remarkable well being is not my efforts but this new companion. Of course the presence of a friend would be beneficial to you, but we could never have allowed it for fear of contagion. Now however the friend has found you despite our efforts, and contagion has not yet appeared. To deprive you of his company would doubtless cause your condition to worsen, which I as a servant of Hippocrates could not permit. Also, it would most certainly have an adverse effect upon my practice." He took a deep breath. "For your sake and mine, yet I hope you realize it is at great professional risk to myself, I shall become the ally of you two. Together we shall conspire to save some happy days, while we can. What is your name, young man." "Dick, sir." "And you do not ask mine in return? It is Foster, William Foster, a modernised version of Forester, which is what we once were, our family. Do you have a surname?" "Hosgood, sir." "Well enough, I once served some Osgoods, a fine old name. Now Mr. Richard Osgood, can you apply your wits and help us determine a more suitable method of disguising your presence here? You cannot always hide under the bed, you know. Sooner or later you will be discovered, and by someone less understanding than I. So...?" The three of them looked around. Nothing. "Oh if only Dorothea could talk! Maybe she would have some inspiration to share with us" Dot opined. "Oh, have the two of you switched names now?" the doctor chuckled. "Yes, she probably knows your quarters as well as anyone...hmm, I wonder... disguising your presence...the doll can help...hmm..." He placed his hands on the girl's shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. "Is Dick's companionship important to you, child?" "It is," she stated firmly. "Would you be willing to make a sacrifice in order to retain that companionship?" "What have I that would be suitable for a sacrifice? My books? I suppose I could offer them..." the girl hesitated. Then she caught his meaning. "Dorothea? But why? We have comforted each other for years now." "Yet if my plan succeeds, she will still remain with you, after a fashion. Will you hear me out?" Dot nodded. "It strikes me that the three of you are nearly of the same proportions. In truth, the doll is a bit smaller now because the two of you have been growing, but the difference is not noticeable. You, Dot, have not grown as you should, no doubt because of the debilitating effects of your illness." "Yes," she replied sadly. "And you, young man, have no doubt lacked proper nourishment for some time; you are neither as plump as some chaps your age, nor as muscular as others." "I was indeed hungry for a long time sir, before I arrived here," Dick admitted. "Let us make a comparison. Dot, come sit here at your little dining table. Now let us put Dorothea in the other chair, and have Dick kneel in between the two of you. Thank God, he has blue eyes. The hair will not be a problem. The mouth? Close enough. Lashes? Perhaps some kohl should be applied. I hear that Mssr. Rimmel has developed a system of combining kohl with wax and brushing the composition on the lashes, to great effect; I shall have to investigate. Brows? They will need to be shaped. Your teeth are not well formed, son, but since the doll never opens her mouth that will not matter. For that matter, Dot's teeth are also not ideal. Your nails need better care, my lad; I shall bring you an orange stick and you shall work on your cuticles every day; also an emery board, for buffing and filing your nails. See how nicely manicured Dot's are?" "Yes, I do now, but I just never thought to think about it, if you know what I mean." The doctor chuckled again and said he did indeed know, but that they were going to have to think of a great many things if they were to pull off this grand deception. He got some tape out of his medical bag, and measured the dimensions of the doll with it, around her forehead, and from the brow to the crown of her head and then to the nape of her neck. He measured her waist, and height, and the length of her arms, and the length and circumference of her neck, jotting down his findings in a little notebook. Then he took the same measurements again, only this time it was Dick he was measuring. Finally he sighed, and put away his things. "It will have to do," he said. "The resemblance will not be perfect, but since no one will have any cause to suspect an imposture, it should succeed." After he left, Dick was relieved and felt that a great weight of apprehension had been lifted from his shoulders. After all, he had lived daily in fear of discovery. Not only would he likely have been beaten in such event, but he would have been bodily ejected from the premises. He would miss the food and warmth, and he would miss the company of his friend, one of the few persons he had encountered in his difficult life who showed any sign of caring for his welfare. Dot on the other hand was melancholy. She came to the realization before Dick did, that the doctor meant to disguise the boy to resemble her lifesized doll, Dorothea. The boy could then occupy these apartments without fear. But they would have to dispose of the true doll, the original. Dot and Dorothea had spent years together, and even though they shared little conversation, a definite bond had grown between them. Their parting would be a sad occasion. That night she brushed her doll's luxuriant hair with especial care. She twined ribbons there, and held her old friend on her lap as she read to Dick in the library. Then she took extra care to dress them both in identical nightgowns, and even in matching kerchiefs. Dick for his part took extra care to dust under the bed. There would be no more inadvertent sneezing! The doctor surprised them by appearing again next morning. Ordinarily he visited only one time per week. He had forgotten to take the measurements of Dot, he explained. His story to her parents was that he was going to give her a treat, new matching sets of clothes for her and her doll. In reality there would be three sets, but only the doctor and the children would know of this. Dick's matching set would be slightly larger than those which the real doll would wear. At first, Nurse and even Mother and Father would be shown the doll wearing the new outfits, so that they could become accustomed to her appearance. Then, it was hoped, when Dick began to play the role of the doll, no change would be detected. At last Dick understood the full scope of the plans which were to envelop and shape his life and his future. Was he dismayed? No, the thought of wearing nice clean things appealed to him, and the fact that they would be designed for a girl bothered him not at all. His life as a boy had not been a rewarding one. This change could be for the best, and if so he would welcome it. For several weeks, when the doctor made his regular visits, he kept the children informed of the progress of their new clothing. "If only one could instantly purchase dresses which fit perfectly!" he exclaimed. "But good seamstresses do not like to be rushed, and I want to stay on the good side of this one." Dick for his part offered the opinion that his mum had been a seamstress and he had always been proud of her work so please be kind to this one for his mum's sake. "Thank the Lord you won't have to speak in your role as the doll, boy," the doctor exclaimed. "Your uncouth accent would be jarring coming from her delicate lips." Dick let his friend ignore him during those ensuing weeks; she needed time to say her farewells to Dorothea. Once Dick took over that role, the doll would have to vanish forever. The snows were beginning to melt by this time, so the two children went out after sunset to survey the garden for a suitable burial plot for Dorothea. "Her body is just cloth and sawdust and plaster," Dot declared, as she sniffled back her tears, "and she could just be crushed and then burnt, but I could not bear it. I would dream of her burning up like that. So we shall bury her like a decent Christian, with prayers, and she shall have a cross standing over her resting place." Dick assented, not without regrets for the poor burial honors shown to his own father (he had not dared even remain to see his mother interred, for surely he would then have been sent to the workhouse). Together they carefully examined the substantial grounds of her private park, rejecting one potential final resting place after another, until at last they returned to the old potting shed. After all their searching and deliberation, it was decided that here was the ideal spot. There by the side of that shed stood an arbor of yew, a suitable shrub for a gravesite. The spot also had ilex, which they would try to dig up and replant over the grave itself. Dot resolved to procure an azalea for a touch of colour there as well. Dick always took pains when returning to the house after a tour of the garden, to remove his shoes so that if any footprints were seen, they would only be those of his hostess. He resolved to remember this precaution once he took upon himself the role of Dorothea. The household would surely become alarmed if they imagined the doll had been walking around the grounds with her mistress! The next day, Dick could not bring himself to eat anything. "Are you ill?" Dot queried. "You always seemed to love cook's creations." "Not ill, just worried," Dick confessed. "After he measured us, I noticed that my middle is two inches wider than Dorothea's and one inch wider than yours. Will not people notice that I am unusually stout? I should take care not to gain any additional weight!" "Tush! Bosh!" Dot returned, with a smile. "Doctor remarked on how lean you were, remember? I doubt any fasting will render you smaller, and if you starve yourself you may become ill. Certainly everyone I know is always urging me to eat heartily so that I may become healthier." Dick nodded glumly but still merely played with his food. Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined embarking upon such an escapade. He would be a trespasser out in the open, a spy within the gates. It made him feel strangely uneasy, not the part of dressing like a girl, but the part of fooling people, of playing out the role. He was an honest boy, and deception did not come easily to him. The following day Nurse came to bathe her young mistress, before bringing her dinner. She brought in a large basin, and then two huge pots of steaming water. Dick from his position under the bed could only hear the pouring and splashing and rubbing, but it occurred to him that from her usual seat in the corner Dorothea would be witnessing the whole procedure. He would need to be sitting there in her place, stock still, eyes wide open, and watch while his friend's naked body was laved. How would she feel about that? They should discuss it. Maybe the doll's seat could be moved or repositioned somehow. His face felt warm; he was embarrassed. He had been sleeping under this girl's bed for nearly a year, and never had a qualm, but for some reason the thought of witnessing her nakedness troubled him. This was going to be too much for him, he was not up to the task. He had scraped together a living for himself in the dirty back alleys of the city but never before faced such a daunting challenge. Maybe he could run away. The rabbit hole beneath the wall had never been repaired. But then Dot would be alone again. Dick did not want to disappoint her. She so much needed the company of a friend; hers was a lonely existence. Only later did he share his feelings with her, disclosing how close he had come to abandoning her. Finally there came the week when the doctor appeared and, good to his word, brought several charming outfits. He presented one set apiece to Dot, Dick and Dorothea. Then he stood back in eager anticipation to savor the results of his labours. There was a long white dress with ruffles around the neck and shoulders, gathered sleeves, and a red satin sash. a pretty white dress with colourful trim, pintucking, flounces, and gracefully detailed half-sleeves a red velvet dress to be worn over a white cotton blouse with a schoolboy's collar and long flowing sleeves a pale shell-pink satin dress adorned with cabbage roses and a long flannel nightgown, floral, with a ruffled yoke, bell sleeves, and box pleats in the back. Since summer was approaching, there were also batiste gowns in the same pattern. "The work was not easy; I had to pay the seamstress extra. Some pieces she already had on display and simply altered them, which bought us a little time. But of course she then had to fabricate their duplicates!" "Thank you, sir," both children said politely. Dick modestly went into the library to change into his new things. The boy had never worn much in the way of underthings, let alone a chemise or a half slip, but he learned quickly enough. He noticed the clean smooth feel of the fabric against his skin; he had never before felt anything so fine. Soon both children appeared before him in the matching dresses with red satin sashes; clearly this would become their favourite. They then dressed Dorothea up and stood before the doctor for inspection. "Impeccable! Perfection!" he beamed. The difference in waistline between Dot and Dick was barely noticeable. The cut of the dresses was forgiving in that way. "Now, my lad, the truly hard work commences." The older man reached into his medical bag and withdrew a fancy box. "This expensive item comes from the leading cosmetic purveyor of our age, Eugene Rimmel. In here are creams, lotions, tints, brushes, and all else necessary and proper for the young lady of fashion. I was delighted to see that he had indeed created the treatment for the eyelashes, the one of which I had heard, using carnuba wax and kohl, to be applied with a tiny brush and some water. I confess lack of skill and experience in the art of applying cosmetics, so I hope I can persuade young Dot to lend me her expert eye as we work?" He smiled at the girl, and she returned his smile. Dick stood as if frozen to the spot, not out of fear, but out of concern that he might spoil the application of the pigments. "Relax, boy! This won't hurt," the man cajoled. "Here, take a chair. Fear not, the finest ladies in London have sported these creations and been none the worse for it." The doctor reached into his bag and removed a brown bottle filled with clear but pungent liquid some of which he shook out onto a clean cloth. "Uhm, is that medicine?" asked Dick nervously, who had never received a dose in his life. "Fear not," the older man chuckled, "''Tis merely a cleanser, witch hazel. Men apply this before or after shaving, it braces the skin. You should never apply cosmetics over dirty or oily skin; it can cause blemishes and infection. Kindly remember this as you begin to apply your own paints." *********************************************************************** Chapter Two After Dick's skin was cleansed, the doctor rummaged in his copious bags and retrieved what looked to the boy to be a spring or clip with the two ends sharpened to a point. "Are...are you going to cut me open?" he asked fearfully. The white haired physician laughed heartily at this. "You expect me to be pulling scalpels and lancets out of my bags and using them on you? No indeed, this is simply a pair of tweezers. I use them to pull splinters out of the paws of young whelps such as yourself, although they are often employed for more aesthetic purposes, such as the removal of unwanted hairs. Now hold still, this will pinch." He proceeded to pluck the boy's brows into a close approximation of Dot's own gracefully curved ones. Standing back, he compared the two side by side and grunted his satisfaction with his work. "Now look at yourself in this hand mirror, lad, and remember how you look, and what was done to obtain this appearance. In future, you will need to bear most of the burden of maintaining your charming face." The boy looked. Already he could see a transformation occurring. It seemed his eyes were wider and brighter looking! "The trick to modern cosmetics, thanks to the influence of our Queen, is to not appear to be employing any. Therefore outright use of paints is impossible. Many young ladies simply pinch their cheeks and bite their lips before appearing in public, so that the blood rises to the skin. However, there are discreet steps we may take that will be more effective than pinching and biting yet not be detectable to the discerning eye. Now boy hold still, for this must be neatly done. I am applying a lip balm, a salve very popular among my female patients. One reason for its popularity is that it contains a delicate and subtle admixture of warm tints, lending colour and smoothness to the lips without risking the "painted" effect." He worked deftly and carefully, as befits a man accustomed to using tools on the human body. Then he invited the boy to look in the mirror again. "But her mouth is still prettier than mine," the lad objected sullenly. At this both his friend and the physician had to chuckle. "As well it should be, in the natural order of things" observed the gentleman. "But you may improve the sweet bow shape of your mouth through practice. During the day, when you think of it, pucker your lips. Make a smiling pout, bring the corners of the lips together and plump the centre of the lips outward. As you are doing this, pull up your cheeks into a smiling shape. Be careful not to squint as you do so. The smiling cheek is always attractive, but too often it is accompanied by the squinting eye, which adds wrinkles and signs of age. Do this exercise whenever you think of it, but at least several times a day. Let me see you try it. There! Quite nice. Watch yourself now in the mirror as you repeat the gesture. Yes, yes. This should be quite sufficient to bring beauty to your lips. As for the cheeks..." He brought a small brown glass pot out of the fancy box and untwisted its onyx lid. Inside was a colourless cream. "This is Schnouda. It can also be used on the lips, but I believe the resulting colour is unnaturally bright, and in any event it is my conviction that proximity of this substance to the mouth can lead to ingestion and illness. But a small bit on the cheeks should do no harm. Now puff up those apples of your cheeks again, boy." Dick did so, and in the very centre of each cheek the gentleman applied a small amount of cream and rubbed it in carefully using a small circular motion. "Do not overdo it! You do not want to appear like a stage actress, or a harlot. There...look." His cheeks now seemed to have a healthy glow which they never before had possessed. They also looked plumper and more appealing, a benefit of the puffing up as well as of the colour. "Now over the whole face we will apply a loose powder. This is mostly talc; it has a very light addition of pigment which is hardly noticeable. This must be subtle, with absolutely no caking. Keep it away from your mouth so that it does not mix with the lip balm and reveal its presence. Keep it away from your hair also. There must be no telltale." And the man applied the talc with a large brush. "Also beware of having any of it catch in your brows or lashes. It is best if the schnouda and talc are applied first; that is what I should have done. Then the rest can be neatened and cleaned up as you go." "One more step, and that is the eyes. Observe carefully. Once again the goal is to approximate nature as much as possible. We are using wax and colourant, but their presence must remain undetected. No clumping!" He now removed a small squarish parcel wrapped in paper from the fancy box and laid it on the table. Opening it, he revealed a rectangle of pale yellow waxy substance, a very fine small little brush, and a small lidded box which he proceeded to open. He placed another piece of paper on the table, shook a small amount of pure black powder out of the lidded box onto it, placed a few droplets of water onto the wax, rubbed the brush back and forth across the wax, and carefully worked the brush through the black powder until it was evenly coated. "Try opening one eye whilst I apply this rimmel to the lashes of the other. Also try not to blink or twitch. This is a discipline which you will have to develop for those frequent times when you will be obliged to apply this substance yourself. See how slowly and carefully I work? When done properly, this procedure works a miraculous change. But any misapplication and...disaster! Can you see what I am doing, as you observe with your other eye?" "Yes sir," said the boy quietly He was in awe of the procedure, it felt like magic. His plain eye was changing as he watched. "Now close it, gently. Remember not to rub your eyes while wearing this rimmel! It will smear. It may be removed with cream, which I shall leave with you. When you are not applying or removing anything, remember: hands away from the eyes!" As the boy acquiesced, he reopened the eye and saw that there had been no smudging. He now had one elegant eye and one plain one. Obedient to the doctor's command, he closed the other eye as the cosmetic was applied there. Finally he was able to open both eyes at once. Dick gasped. "I'm...another person!" he whispered. The doctor smiled indulgently. "Yes, or a doll! That is our objective. Soon you will be able to reside here out in the open at all times, without fear. Now just two more things. First, a small amount of powdered oyster shell, just above the lid of your eye. It has a bit of shine to it but also conveys the subtle bluish purple colour of fine veins, so attractive in the eyelid of a young lady of quality. Your friend here comes by this beauty naturally, lucky her. See also how Dorothea the doll has a trace of colour there? Now you shall, as well. Take care that this not enter the eye itself as it is abrasive and irritating." "There lacks but one more item, but before we attend to that, kindly observe how I cleanse my instruments. The tweezers should be washed first, then the cloth which applied the lip balm, then the cloth which applied the schnouda, the brush for the talc, and finally the brushes for the eyelashes and lids. Wash each separately. Take care that no colours mix, or find their way onto anything. Along with thousands of others in this country, your goal is to beautify yourself while having the whole world believe your beauty is entirely the gift of nature and not of art." Finally, after brushing and combing the boy's hair neatly, he removed a large box from his bag. Opening it, he revealed the featureless head of a woman or girl, crowned with flowing auburn tresses. "A wig," he said curtly. "Human hair; cost me a fortune." This head he placed on the table. He reached within the wig and pulled out a series of pins. Lifting up the wig, he revealed a tight woven cap underneath. This cap he transferred to the boy's head and stretched it snugly in place. "Dot, would you hold the glass for us please? Thank you. Now observe young sir, or miss, how the entire procedure is carried out. First the cap placed snug and secure in just that position. Now the wig, starting from the nape of the neck, stretching it- gently!- forward, holding one hand on the nape so that it does not shift while you position each temple. Now pin the nape in place, carefully, we want no bloodshed. Is it secure there? Good. Now pull the temples further down and forward; the wig will always fight you and try to pull itself up into a fluffy ball atop your head. You must fight back. Now hold the crown of your head and pull forward; a high brow is elegant but to appear in the likeness of Queen Elizabeth would be ridiculous. Here now is the trickiest part. Work very quickly. Place pins in the crown, both temples, and above the brow. Now, as is usually the case, we must needs go back and repin what we have done before, because the dratted wig has shifted around as we fastened it in place. Look to find any odd seeming spots, such as above and behind the ears, and correct the appearance with a pin. Well. Now shake your head gently. Good, all seems secure. It is safe now for a final brushing. Watch the technique, this is not as easy as it appears, is it Miss Dot?" The girl agreed, as she watched in rapt fascination. "But the skill can be acquired with time. In the interim, I hope your friend will help you with this routine, hm?" "Oh, gladly!" the girl exclaimed. "It's like creating a work of art!" The doctor beamed. "Now, if you wish, the two of you may examine yourselves in the floor mirror beside the vanity." They did so, and both gasped. "Who is who? The dress, the hair, the face...we are the same!!" they exclaimed in unison. "Oh, one last thing; your nails" the doctor added. He examined Dot's hand "Oh these are perfect! You have learnt your lessons well with the manicure!" Dot blushed and said, "Um, that's Dick over there." The doctor grinned and said, "I knew that; it was my poor attempt at a little game. The resemblance however is indeed uncanny. Now let's see; not bad, you must take care not to bite your nails! But the cuticles are much improved. Now I want you to apply this every night, after you use the stick and the emery board. It is a powder which you can mix with a bit of water; some chemicals are released as you do so, as well as a subtle colourant. Your nails will appear natural, but smoother and more evenly tinted. Remember the emery board. Ahem. Well. I had worked myself up for this grand experiment and now that it is over I find myself rather deflated. But you look fine, fine." Dot had dreaded this moment. "Must we now destroy poor old Dorothea? She was my only companion for many years; I hate to inter her within the sod." And she wept quiet tears. The kindly physician gently patted her head. "There, there, perhaps we can work something out. Indeed she must never be discovered; two dolls would be one doll too many. But surely in apartments as copious as your own there must be some secure place of hiding?" "Under the bed?" suggested Dick, but the others demurred. "It is a miracle you were never discovered there; sooner or later she would be found. Nurse cleans this room too often...it must be elsewhere..." the doctor mused. "Shall we examine your library? Perhaps there we shall find some inspiration." The three conspirators retired to the library and began examining it closely. There were two closets but they were filled with shelves, which would not allow sufficient space for the secreting of Dorothea. One was deep enough, with shelves meant for storage of maps, atlases, and art folios, but the other was shallow, a place for storing wax tapers, pen knives, scrolls of vellum, and other paraphernalia. Neither would suit. "Loose floorboards, perhaps?" suggested the medical man. Dick agreed, he had rummaged abandoned houses and found valuable items underneath the flooring. But no such luck. Dot tossed herself vigorously onto the divan, in a rare display of temper. "It's not fair! And yet I feel we are close, so very close, to the solution!" And she stuck out her well shaped lower lip. "Very close? Yes, perhaps!" exclaimed the doctor. "Will you allow me to disengage you from your perch?" So the girl arose and watched in consternation as the doctor threw the two cushions from the divan onto the floor, withdrew a folding knife from his jacket pocket, and used it to viciously attack the upholstered base of the divan! "You are ruining it!" exclaimed Dot in horror. But he reassured her "The cushions should keep any damage from view; at least I hope they will...Aha! Do you see?" The children were uncertain as to what they were supposed to see. Beneath the cloth of the divan base there was a sturdy wooden crosspiece, and then tightly coiled cables of horsehair. The looked at each other, two twin girls, perplexed, and shrugged in unison. "Just...let...me...prise...up...this...crosspiece," gasped the doctor as he labored with the flat side of his blade, levering up the wooden piece and exposing the horsehair. "There now," he declared, "If we carefully remove such the right amount of horsehair, in just the right place, we can hide Dorothea in there. I will bring new cloth to replace the damaged upholstery, and no one shall be the wiser!" "Brilliant," exclaimed Dick, in tones of wonder. "But will she break if we sit on her?" worried Dot. "The best way to prevent that is not to sit on her, then," the gentleman retorted. "That sounds reasonable enough" the former boy replied. "We do not often sit there anyway, since we like to read with the lamps, and they are on the tables where the seats are." Dot agreed, and so it was done. With more effort than he had anticipated, the doctor removed the horsehair. It was wiry and resilient. "Oh for the proper tools," he moaned. "A serrated edge would be much more handy, but if we wait until I procure that tool, our imposture may be discovered in the interim. So! Let us take her dresses and place them in the bottom and sides of this cavity I have created, and then place her within the remaining space. You may imagine her resting in comfort amidst beautiful things, Dot." She sniffed a sniffle, but nodded. And so it was done. Dorothea lay in serene repose staring up from the depths of the divan. The doctor tried to replace the crosspiece by hammering it with the haft of his knife, but was unsuccessful. "Is there another item in here with more heft, that might serve?" he inquired. Dot loved roses, her garden was filled with them, and she had several fine paperweights in the library which each displayed a preserved rose. With a sigh, she presented one of them for use as a hammer. "Please do have a care," she implored. "As my mistress requires," grunted the older man, pounding away. The work was soon done, the cushions back in place, and the rose paperweight returned undamaged. Dot carefully placed it on a remote shelf, as if reassuring it, showing that it would not again be pressed into such dangerous service. The doctor brought his copious bag into the library and placed Dorothea's flannel nightgown within it. "I do not want the horsehair contaminating my medicaments," he explained. He lined his bag with the gown and placed the loose horsehair on top of it. "Please help me examine the floor here for any stray hairs. There must be no evidence left here of our activities today." There proved to be hundreds of hair fragments, the product of the doctors sawing away at the horsehair with his knife blade, and it took an inordinate time to track down and stow away. With its cushions back in place, the divan drew no attention to itself. Just as he was closing the hasp of his bag, there came a rapping on the chamber door. "Doctor, is she taken badly? If not, I really should come in and dust around." It was Nurse! "Alas, all this business has taken much longer than I anticipated," the gentleman whispered. "What's to do?" Thinking quickly, Dot led Dick to a chair in a shadowy corner of the library and sat him down there. She posed him with his manicured hands crossed in his lap, head up and alert. "Now for heaven's sake do not twitch, or blink...or sneeze!" the girl exhorted. The doctor said loudly, "Coming!" but nevertheless took his time opening the door. "My apologies," he said, "the young mistress and I, and her doll, were just having an enjoyable conversation." "Hmpph," replied Nurse ungraciously. "I am elated that you have been having such a fine time. Now please excuse me, this place obviously needs a thorough cleaning!" The doctor backed nervously out the door as Nurse got a feather duster, broom and pan from a closet and began working furiously. She dusted inside the bedroom closet! Under the bed! Under the settee! There would have been no escape from discovery for them, had she come a mere five minutes earlier. She moved into the library and dusted and swept there as well, all the surface, over and under every piece of furniture. If she tried to move the doll, she would discover that it had suddenly gained weight. "Oh please, do not disturb Dorothea" begged Dot, grasping her supposed doll around the waist and placing it on her lap. Nurse loved the child too much too stay out of sorts too long. "Oh there's a love," she cooed. "Aren't you two just the sweetest twins? As alike as peas in a pod." And she patted them both on the crown of their auburn curls. Once she was gone, Dick drew a deep breath and started shivering. He had been so scared! It was so difficult, remaining completely motionless, going limp as Dot moved him around! But Dot was having a fit of the giggles. "Oh how we fooled her! Poor doctor, he has created a masterpiece yet no one shall ever know of it!" Nurse had left bread and butter, marmalade and milk. Dick always drank first, so that his mouth would not touch where hers had been. This time, he left an imprint of delicate red lips on the glass. "We must take care to note and remove all traces such as this," Dot cautioned, as she cleaned the rim of the glass. They spent the rest of that day indoors, as was their wont; while in the library, Dot often looked with strange fondness at the seemingly unoccupied divan. After the evening meal, as the natural light dimmed, they went outside to hear the birds and visit the roses. Dot took Dick's hand. "Thank you," she said quietly, as they stood together inhaling the flowery fragrance. "You have been wonderful about this, about everything. You accept every imposition without complaint, all for me; you are indeed my knight." Examining his pretty arms, lifting up the flounce of his dress, Dick returned, "And with a fine coat of armor, no less." Giggling, they went hand in hand back into the house. Dick could no longer sleep under the bed, but insisted that to go under the coverlet with Dot would exceed the bounds of propriety. In the end. after Dot had composed herself, Dick lay down beside her on top of the coverlet. In whispered conversation they spoke of how they would brag to Doctor when he returned for his next visit. Their masquerade had been an unqualified success! "Oh, how we fooled Nurse!" Dot chortled, as they drifted off into dreamland. Chapter Three After that, the two children felt they were on top of the world. Dick could live openly as Dot's companion, as long as he remembered to go limp and hold still whenever Nurse was present. They were always careful to play quietly; it would not do for two young voices to be heard emanating from the girl's chambers! Whenever they came in from the garden, Dick had to remember to clean his shoes; dolly would not be walking around getting her footwear soiled! When it rained, or snowed, they read to each other. When Mother had finished with reading her periodicals, Household Words, and All The Year 'Round, she lent them to her daughter. These readings gave both children a taste for Dickens, which Dot politely requested. Her parents thought the author might be too plebeian for their daughter, but she persisted, mildly, and they could not long refuse her. The first instalment was The Old Curiosity Shop, which caused them both to shed bitter tears for poor little Nell. Dot wondered whether Dick had faced the hardships of Oliver Twist, and he confided that he was well aware of the workhouse but had been warned clear of it by the kind old vicar, else he had ended up there rather than in the ash bins behind fancy homes. Everyone was very taken with the Queen and her consort, and the children were no exception. It was amusing to see Dick play the part of Albert in their little dramas, when he looked the very likeness of his queen! In fair weather, the garden always provided ample amusement. They could set up imaginary landscapes, go exploring foreign lands, recreate scenes from the Bard ("Don't kneel in the dust there, Romeo, you'll befoul your skirts!" Dot as Juliet chuckled). Somehow they also found time to actually attend to the garden itself. Everyone in the land was of course well versed in the "language of flowers," an elegant coded communication through which plantings and bouquets became poems and prayers. The two friends therefore used their own plantings to convey messages. Dot explained her choice of Lady's Seal. "It says 'Be My Support', because I depend so much on your kindness and friendship." Dick responded with Bluebells, "For they stand for Constancy and Gratitude," he explained. Dot was much touched by this. They celebrated their ongoing deception by planting maidenhair fern, which conveys the thought of a "Secret bond of love, or Discretion". They had come to share a deep mutual affection, but must always be discreet and careful to hide the truth of their relationship. They also planted many humble daisies, for as we all know "daisies never tell"! Thereby the great secret would be maintained. The Rose may be the most daunting of flowers to plant and maintain, yet surely it most rewards such efforts. With much toil, the two friends planted and watered a pink rose bush, which spoke of "Secret Love". They also planted white and red roses together, the hopeful symbol of the nation, as a sign of Unity. The white also signified "Secrecy" and the red "Love". One evening toward mealtime, after the children had been watering and pruning their roses, and plucking off offending aphids, they noticed that Dick had forgotten himself in the spirit of the moment, and had become as begrimed as any gardener! Quickly they rushed to the house, careful to wipe the soil from his shoes, and as quickly washed his well manicured hands. There was a noise in the hall; Nurse was coming! Dick's dress was a disgrace! Thinking quickly, Dot had them both remove their gowns. Now they both appeared in their undergarments, simple but well fashioned, white petticoats and camisoles. "For the love of heaven, Dick, have a care that your masculine elements do not show themselves!" hissed the girl, as he perched on the usual chair. In walked Nurse! "My word, what have we here? Why have the two of you shed your clothes? This is a decent household, as I am sure you know, and we always dress for dinner!" But she was smiling as she said this, for a mercy. "Oh Nurse," pled Dot sweetly, "I besmirched my gown whilst caring for the rosebushes, and so it was not fit to wear at dinner. So I was preparing to find a fresh outfit, and of course Dorothea would have to change hers as well! We always must match." "Oh, there's a duck, of course you do, now let's see..." and Nurse busied herself selecting a new outfit for the two of them, as Dot breathed a secret sigh of relief. The two were much amused to relate this ad