Read Online Morning Song by Karen Robards - Free Book Online

precarious upsweep of her hair. Sissie crouched at her feet, industriously sewing a gathered flounce to the hem of the made-over dress so that it would reach past Jessie's ankles. Slanting rays of sunlight poured in through the pair of windows that overlooked the side yard, bathing Jessie and her helpers in their brightness. The effect, as she viewed it in the mirror, made Jessie grimace.
    Caught in the bold wash of sunlight, the deficiencies of her appearance became glaringly obvious. The demure white muslin dress, selected by Celia three years ago because it was so suitable for a young girl, had yellowed ever so slightly since then. The tiny pink sprigs with which it was adorned had faded until they were a pale shadow of the shade they had once been. The pink flounce that Sissie was adding, in the hope that it would freshen as well as lengthen the dress, looked hopelessly out of place. So did the pink satin sash, which Sissie had borrowed from Minna, Celia's maid, who had unearthed it amongst a pile of Celia's discarded clothes. The pink flounce was from the same dress that 55

    had yielded the sash, and the color of both bore only a general resemblance to the shade of the sprigs.
    To make matters worse, although Tudi had tried her best in the matter of the bodice, it was still too tight. For one of the few times in her life Jessie was wearing stays (she'd had to, to get into the dress), but although they whittled her waist to some small degree, they had the opposite effect on her bosom, which was pushing against the cloth covering it as though determined to escape. The once modest scoop neckline did not quite conceal the excess flesh; enough soft white cleavage showed to make the dress too revealing for a young lady of Jessie's tender years. Tudi, scandalized, had been all for jettisoning the dress. Only the sorry fact that Jessie did not possess another in better condition stayed her hand. Borrowing a gown from Celia's vast wardrobe had been considered, but the sad truth was that no dress made to fit Celia's tiny frame could be stretched to cover Jessie. So Sissie, who at age fourteen was the most accomplished seamstress in the house, including Tudi and her mother, had come up with a compromise: she would purloin another section of the pink dress, and use it to make a ruffle around the neckline. With that addition, the gown would be perfectly respectable, if not entirely fashionable.
    "Stand still, Miss Jessie." Made a trifle cocky by her new importance, Sissie admonished Jessie in a stern tone as she stood up to attach the all-important neck ruffle. Scrawny and several inches shorter than Jessie, her hair still in childish plaits, Sissie had to stand on tiptoe to do the sewing. Chafing, Jessie stood still under her determined ministrations, hoping that the addition of the pink frill would somehow magically improve her appearance. 56

    It didn't. When Sissie stepped back, and Jessie was allowed to admire her handiwork, she looked at her reflection again and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
    "I look just dreadful," she said with conviction.
    "Oh, lamb, you do not!" Tudi protested, surveying Jessie's reflection from behind her.
    "You look fine, Miss Jessie," Sissie added stoutly, but Jessie was not fooled.
    "I look like a Holstein cow in a dress."
    "Miss Jessie!" Tudi's protest was severe, but there was a giggle underlying Sissie's simultaneous one. Glumly, Jessie knew her pronouncement was true.
    "I do. My hair's too red and my face is too round, and as for the rest of me—I'm just plain fat."
    "Now you just stop thinking like that!" There was fierceness in Tudi's eyes as Jessie met them in the mirror. Tudi never could stand for anyone to belittle her lamb, as she had called Jessie when she was little. Not even Jessie herself. "You're hair's a nice, rich mahogany color, not red at all. And it curls— my, how Miss Celia would love to have your curls! Minna tells me she spends every night in curl papers.