Explore "A Bird of Passage" by B.M. Croker on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
"No hinge, nor loop, / To hang a doubt on." / Othello.
THIS is Dido Sheridan's birthday.-She is twenty-four years old to-day. Her cousin Helen's offering is to take the shape of this hat, which she is engaged in trimming with somewhat anxious feelings. This straw hat, a bunch of daisies, and a few yards of cream-coloured lace, have swallowed up her very _last_ shilling, and there she sits, pinning, and twisting, and unpinning and untwisting, in the greatest perplexity. Her thoughts are running upon charming constructions, that she had seen in milliners' windows in Bond Street, that looked so simple and yet were so effective (and so expensive). How were they put together? Certainly _not_ by amateur fingers, my dear young lady! After a long struggle, sheer perseverance was rewarded by a result that would pass admirably in Terryscreen, if not in Tyburnia. "Yes, it really looks very nice," she said to herself aloud as she held it up critically. Then, of course, she went over to the glass and tried it on! The next thing was to see how it suited Dido? so she walked to the door, and called "Dido" in her clearest treble.