Mary carried an armful of garments, which she laid out on the bed. She dipped a small curtsey in Mattie’s direction upon hearing that Mattie was a “distant cousin” from America. “I think this frock would do very nicely for today, don’t you, Mary?” Sylvie held up an eggshell-white dress of some sort of muslin. Bright red ribbons decorated the small puff sleeves and ran across an empire waist. Mattie stared at the lovely gown with a growing sense of unease. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Just her underwear, pajamas and her robe. Could she possibly get by for thirty days without a bra or a change of underwear? She thought not. “Um…Sylvie, I don’t have any…uh…fresh underwear.” Mary’s eyes widened, and she turned away hastily to sort through the garments on the bed. Sylvie took it in stride. “I suspected not. Certainly, I never sleep in my unmentionables, so I have brought some of my own for you to use.”
