He loosened one plank, and began to lift out various articles of female attire--old-fashioned caps, aprons, dresses with long pointed bodies such as he remembered to have seen his mother wear when he was a little child.
He shook them out carefully to see there were no moths, and then sat down to fold them up again one by one.

They had belonged to Em's mother, and the box, as packed at her death, had stood untouched and forgotten these long years.

She must have been a tall woman, that mother of Em's, for when he stood up to shake out a dress the neck was on a level with his, and the skirt touched the ground.

Gregory laid a nightcap out on his knee, and began rolling up the strings; but presently his fingers moved slower and slower, then his chin rested on his breast, and finally the imploring blue eyes were fixed on the frill abstractedly.

When Em's voice called to him from the foot of the ladder he started, and threw the nightcap behind him.
She was only come to tell him that his cup of soup was ready; and, when he could hear that she was gone, he picked up the nightcap again, and a great brown sun-kapje--just such a kapje and such a dress as one of those he remembered to have seen a sister of mercy wear.