The doorman, in a blue uniform with gold piping, hurried
You must not name it to your mother! It would to shrift, just like the other.
Nay look at them! now only see!
Woe is me! Them in the street I cannot wear, Or in the church, or any where.
Come often over here to me, The gems put on quite privately; And then
before the mirror walk an hour or so, Thus we shall have our pleasure too.
Then suitable occasions we must seize, As at a feast, to show them by
degrees: A chain at first, pearl ear - drops then, - your mother Won't see
them, or we'll coin some tale or other.