The skirt fell to the floor, and out of it bounded Dorothy in the short gown of a maid.
"You will be better able to judge of me in this costume, cousin," said Dorothy.

"It will be more familiar to you than the gowns which ladies wear." "I will retract," said Leicester, whispering to me, and gazing ardently at Dorothy's ankles.

"God has made something more beautiful than Mistress Vernon's arms.

By Venus! I suppose that in His omnipotence He might be able to create something more beautiful than her ankles, but up to this time He has not vouchsafed to me a vision of it.

Ah! did any one ever behold such strength, such perfect symmetry, such--St.George! the gypsy doesn't live who can dance like that." Sure enough, Dorothy was dancing.