At last we came to the door of a room, and she said, "Go in."

     I answered, more in shyness than politeness, "After you, miss."

     To this she returned: "Don't be ridiculous, boy; I am not going in." And scornfully walked away, and--what was worse--took the candle with her. This was very uncomfortable, and I was half afraid. However, the only thing to be done being to knock at the door, I knocked, and was told from within to enter. I entered, therefore, and found myself in a pretty large room, well lighted with wax candles. No glimpse of daylight was to be seen in it. It was a dressing-room, as I supposed from the furniture, though much of it was of forms and uses then quite unknown to me. But prominent in it was a draped table with a gilded looking-glass, and that I made out at first sight to be a fine lady's dressing-table.