Explore "A Nine Day's Wonder" by B.M. Croker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Joseline, who was worn out, both bodily and mentally, slept a sound and dreamless sleep, from which she was aroused by the sound of careful footsteps, a rustling of starched petticoats, and a gentle opening of heavy shutters. She stared about the unfamiliar, lofty room. Where was she? As her gaze fell on the pale satin counterpane, the dignified dressing-table, beyond it a tall housemaid in a stiff print gown, cautiously raising the window-blinds, she closed her eyes. Would she open them on her own little quarters in the cottage loft? -- a room with a wooden bed and patchwork quilt, a rickety washstand, and one chair? No, no -- and she sat erect among her pillows -- it was not a dream; she was at home -- her real home. Sleepily she watched the clever housemaid arrange her bath, and carry in her tea in a dainty canary-coloured service.
"At what time will you have your breakfast, my lady? Her ladyship said you would have it in your room."