There would be room enough in Fanny's dress, if
Anna had it on, as we remember the two, to put in a feather bed, eleven
rolls of cotton batting, twelve pounds of bird seed, four rubber air
cushions, two dozen towels, two brass bird cages, a bundle of old papers,
a sack of bran and a bale of hay. That is, in different places. Of course
all this truck wouldn't go in the dress in any one given locality. If Anna
should put on Fanny's dress, and have it filled up so it would look any
way decent, and attempt to go to Canada, she would be arrested for
smuggling.
Why, if Dickinson should put on a pair of Davenport's stockings, now for
instance, it would be necessary to get out a search warrant to find her.
She could pin the tops of them at her throat with a brooch, and her whole
frame would not fill one stocking half as well as they have been filled
before being attached, and Anna would look like a Santa Claus present of a
crying doll, hung on to a mantel piece.
Fanny Davenport is one of the handsomest and splendidest formed women on
the American stage, and a perfect lady, while Dickinson, who succeeds to
her old clothes through the law, is small, not handsome, and a quarrelsome
female who thinks she has a mission. The people of this country had rather
see Fanny Davenport without any wardrobe to speak of than to see Dickinson
with clothes enough to start a second hand store.
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