"The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. ” “DUSTING!” said Miss Miniver, in a sepulchral voice. She sat on the edge of the bed —the wardress was too busy with the flood of arrivals that day to discover that she had it down—and her skin was shivering from the contact of these garments. Near the door stood a pile of deal planks, behind which the carpenter ensconced himself in order to reconnoitre, unobserved, the proceedings of his idle apprentice.
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