Viola yawned and pulled on her dressing gown. She knew that Mirupa would be going to pick up her new dress and she was feeling quite nervous.
Would the neckline be too daring for mourning and what about the sleeves?
Breakfast was rushed as Aunt Mary was constantly interrupted by servants, asking her advice or opinion, or informing her that such-and-such an item had arrived.
“Oh, this is all too much,” she cried, as the message came that the ensemble had been delayed.
The day flew by and, very soon, Viola found that it was time for her to dress. Mirupa had the bath filled and then added some oil of sandalwood.
After the bath, she stood and brushed her hair until it shone and then put it up on Viola’s head in an elaborate style.
Viola regarded her reflection in the mirror. The dress wa
