It seemed to Cicely that she had never had such a wretched morning.
The loss of sleep the night before left her languid and nervous. Her
cold seemed to grow worse every moment, and madame and the forewoman
were both unusually cross. She felt ill and feverish when she took her
seat again after the lunch hour.

Presently madame came in, looking sharply about her, and walked up to
Cicely with the rosebud silk skirt in her hands. "Here!" she said,
hurriedly. "Put ze band on zis. Ze ozair woman who do zis alway have
gone home ill. An' be in one beeg haste, also, for ze time have arrive
for ze las' fitting. You hear?"

Cicely took it up, pleased and smiling. After all, she was to have a
part in making the beautiful rose gown that would surely give Miss
Balfour such pleasure. Her quick needle flew in and out, but her
thoughts flew still faster.

She had had a gown like that herself once; at least it was something
like that pattern, although the material was nothing but lawn. She had
worn it first on the day when she was fifteen years old, and her
mother had surprised her by a birthday party. And they had had tea out
in the old rose-garden, and had pelted one another with the great
velvety king roses, and she had torn her hand on a thorn. Ah, how
cruelly it hurt! It was a very present pain that made her cry out
now, not the memory of that old one.

Some one had overturned a chair just behind her, and Cicely's
nervousness made her jump forward with a violent start. With that
sudden movement the sharp needle she held was thrust deep into her
hand and two great drops of blood spurted out. With that sudden
movement, also, the silk skirt slipped from her lap, and she clutched
it to save it from touching the floor. Before she was aware of
anything but the sharp pain, before she saw the blood that the needle
had brought to the surface, two great stains blotted the front breadth
of the dainty skirt.

She gave a stifled scream, and grew white and numb. Almost instantly
madame saw and heard, and pounced down upon her. "I am ruin'!" she
shrieked, pointing to the stains. "Nozzing will take zem out!
Mademoiselle will be so angry I will lose ze trade of her!"

The irate woman took Cicely by the shoulders and shook her violently,
just as Miss Shelby and Miss Balfour were announced. They had come for
the final fitting, expecting to take the dress home with them.

Madame, still wildly indignant, went storming in to meet them, and
poor