My fund for
more than a third of the year would be doubled, if I could
turn that black feather into silver or gold again. And the
feather was of no particular use, that I could see. It made me
look like the heiress of Magnolia, my aunt said; but neither
could I see any use in _that_. Everybody knew, that is, all the
servants and friends of the family knew, that I was that
heiress; I needed no black feather to proclaim it. And now it
seemed to me as if my riding cap was heavy with undeveloped
bulbs, uncrystallised sugar, unweighed green tea. No
transformation of the feather was possible; it must wave over
my brow in its old fashion, whether it were a misguided
feather or not; but my thoughts, once set a going in this
train, found a great deal to do. Truth to tell, they have not
done it all yet.
"Aunt Gary," I said that same evening, musing over the things
in my boxes, — "does lace cost much?"
"That is like the countryman who asked me once, if it took
long to play a piece of music! Daisy, don't you know any more
about lace than to ask such a question?"
"I don't know what it costs, aunt Gary.
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