Mary stood by the side of the table, her pretty head bent reflectively
downward, her cheek just resting upon the tip of one of her fingers, as
she stood looking thoughtfully _through_ the brocades at something
deeper that seemed to lie under them; and when the Doctor was required
to give judgment on the articles, it was observed by the matrons that
his large blue eyes were resting upon Mary, with an expression that
almost glorified his face; and it was not until his elbow was
repeatedly shaken by Miss Prissy, that he gave a sudden start, and
fixed his attention, as was requested, upon the silks. It had been one
of Miss Prissy's favorite theories, that _"that dear blessed man had
taste enough, if he would only give his mind to things"_; and, in fact,
the Doctor rather verified the remark on the present occasion, for he
looked very conscientiously and soberly at the silks, and even handled
them cautiously and respectfully with his fingers, and listened with
grave attention to all that Miss Prissy told him of their price and
properties, and then laid his finger down on one whose snow-white
ground was embellished with a pattern representing lilies of the valley
on a background of green leaves. "This is the one," he said, with an
air of decision; and then be looked at Mary, and smiled, and a murmur
of universal approbation broke out.
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