"this will never do. I suppose you'll just have to give up."
"Give up?"
"Of course. What else can you do? I can't very well take you to my tailor, can I, and have him make a man's suit for you?"
Even I could see the futility in such a course of action. If we tried doing that, no doubt the tailor would report the peculiarity to Will's great-uncle.
"No, of course not," I admitted.
"So that's it, then." Will looked so smug, I could almost see him mentally washing his hands of the whole affair as he made to leave the room.
"No, it is not," I said, my words stopping him as he put his hand on the doorknob.
"It isn't?" He looked puzzled.
What did he think, that I was going to give up so easily? That I was going to simply quit at the very first obstacle?
"Get me my sewing kit," I commanded him.
"Your—?"
"My sewing kit," I said impatiently. "You know, that thing with threads and needles?"
"I know what a sewing kit is."
"Well then?" I prodded him. "I can't very well traipse through the house looking like this, can I? You'll find it in the basket near the fireplace down in the drawing room."
Perhaps too stunned by my authoritarian manner to offer any rebuttal, Will obeyed.
"Thank you," I said imperiously when he returned with the requested item. I opened the kit and removed a box of straight pins. "Here." I placed the box in Will's hand. Then I dragged a chair to the center of the room and proceeded to climb up on top of it.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" Will asked, shaking the box of pins at me.
"I can't do everything myself! And I certainly can't pin up clothes properly when I'm wearing them. The hems would come out all uneven."
"You want me to pretend to be a dressmaker's assistant and pin up the hems for you?"
"
Nooo.
I want you to pretend to be a tailor's assistant and pin up the hems for me. Is that too much to ask? Once you accomplish that, I'll do all the rest."
"You're impossible," he muttered, but at least he got down on his knees and, squinting at the fabric, folded up the hems of the trousers so he could begin placing pins at regular intervals.
"Thank you," I said.
"I'm only doing this to shut you up."
"You shouldn't talk with pins in your mouth. And anyway, I wasn't thanking you for doing what I asked."
Will stopped for a moment, looked up at me. "What, then?"
"I was thanking you for calling me impossible." I smiled down at him. "I rather like the idea of being impossible."
"Girls."
"Boys. Now get back to work."
But when Will finished pinning the material at my wrists and ankles so that I could properly hem them later, my reflection still looked wrong. And not just because of my breasts.
"I still need to fix the waistband," I said, "so it doesn't hang so low on my hips. Here." I handed him a couple of pins. Then I took off the jacket and, turning away from him, lifted up the waistband of the trousers to a level that looked about right. "If you place a few of these in the back so that the whole is tighter, I can sew darts there later."
I was just beginning to think that Will was getting rather good at obeying instructions when I felt a pin stab me.
"Ouch!" I shouted, whirling on him. "You did that on purpose!"
"Would I do that to you?" His expression was innocent. Too innocent.
"Well, hurry up," I grumbled. "We have a lot more to do."
"More?"
"Of course, more! You don't expect me to go off to school with just one suit, do you?"
***
"Can you write out the alphabet for me, Will?" I asked one night, having followed Will out to the back garden after dinner.
"If you can't even make your letters," Will said with a snort, "how do you ever expect to go away to school?"
"I know how to make my letters, Will Gardener! And you know that I know. But my hand is a girl's hand. When you send me notes from school, your hand is less florid than mine. If I am to convince people that I am—"
"Fine." Will made no effort to hide his exasperation. "Get me paper and
"Give up?"
"Of course. What else can you do? I can't very well take you to my tailor, can I, and have him make a man's suit for you?"
Even I could see the futility in such a course of action. If we tried doing that, no doubt the tailor would report the peculiarity to Will's great-uncle.
"No, of course not," I admitted.
"So that's it, then." Will looked so smug, I could almost see him mentally washing his hands of the whole affair as he made to leave the room.
"No, it is not," I said, my words stopping him as he put his hand on the doorknob.
"It isn't?" He looked puzzled.
What did he think, that I was going to give up so easily? That I was going to simply quit at the very first obstacle?
"Get me my sewing kit," I commanded him.
"Your—?"
"My sewing kit," I said impatiently. "You know, that thing with threads and needles?"
"I know what a sewing kit is."
"Well then?" I prodded him. "I can't very well traipse through the house looking like this, can I? You'll find it in the basket near the fireplace down in the drawing room."
Perhaps too stunned by my authoritarian manner to offer any rebuttal, Will obeyed.
"Thank you," I said imperiously when he returned with the requested item. I opened the kit and removed a box of straight pins. "Here." I placed the box in Will's hand. Then I dragged a chair to the center of the room and proceeded to climb up on top of it.
"What am I supposed to do with these?" Will asked, shaking the box of pins at me.
"I can't do everything myself! And I certainly can't pin up clothes properly when I'm wearing them. The hems would come out all uneven."
"You want me to pretend to be a dressmaker's assistant and pin up the hems for you?"
"
Nooo.
I want you to pretend to be a tailor's assistant and pin up the hems for me. Is that too much to ask? Once you accomplish that, I'll do all the rest."
"You're impossible," he muttered, but at least he got down on his knees and, squinting at the fabric, folded up the hems of the trousers so he could begin placing pins at regular intervals.
"Thank you," I said.
"I'm only doing this to shut you up."
"You shouldn't talk with pins in your mouth. And anyway, I wasn't thanking you for doing what I asked."
Will stopped for a moment, looked up at me. "What, then?"
"I was thanking you for calling me impossible." I smiled down at him. "I rather like the idea of being impossible."
"Girls."
"Boys. Now get back to work."
But when Will finished pinning the material at my wrists and ankles so that I could properly hem them later, my reflection still looked wrong. And not just because of my breasts.
"I still need to fix the waistband," I said, "so it doesn't hang so low on my hips. Here." I handed him a couple of pins. Then I took off the jacket and, turning away from him, lifted up the waistband of the trousers to a level that looked about right. "If you place a few of these in the back so that the whole is tighter, I can sew darts there later."
I was just beginning to think that Will was getting rather good at obeying instructions when I felt a pin stab me.
"Ouch!" I shouted, whirling on him. "You did that on purpose!"
"Would I do that to you?" His expression was innocent. Too innocent.
"Well, hurry up," I grumbled. "We have a lot more to do."
"More?"
"Of course, more! You don't expect me to go off to school with just one suit, do you?"
***
"Can you write out the alphabet for me, Will?" I asked one night, having followed Will out to the back garden after dinner.
"If you can't even make your letters," Will said with a snort, "how do you ever expect to go away to school?"
"I know how to make my letters, Will Gardener! And you know that I know. But my hand is a girl's hand. When you send me notes from school, your hand is less florid than mine. If I am to convince people that I am—"
"Fine." Will made no effort to hide his exasperation. "Get me paper and
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