Charlotte's imagination took no journeys whatever; she kept it, as it were, in her pocket, with the other furniture of this receptacle--a thimble, a little box of peppermint, and a morsel of court-plaster.

"I don't believe she would have any dinner--or any breakfast," said Miss Wentworth.

"I don't believe she knows how to do anything herself.

I should have to get her ever so many servants, and she would n't like them." "She has a maid," said Gertrude; "a French maid.

She mentioned her." "I wonder if the maid has a little fluted cap and red slippers," said Lizzie Acton.