Anne was happier than she had been in a long time.

And then it all went horribly wrong: "Oh, darling, what are ye wearin' underneath?" exclaimed the woman who was checking where to amend the dress. "That doesn't flatter ye at all. Is that a child's corset?"

Anne's neck and cheeks turned redder than her hair. The woman probably meant no harm, but the teenager felt like she was being humiliated in front of the entire shop, and more importantly, in front of Mrs. Blacke. Of course she knew that her corset didn't fit her well anymore. It hadn't for at least two years and it was falling apart, no matter how often she mended it. But all this time she had felt too embarrassed to ask her father for money to buy a corset better fitted to her developing body. "N-no, ma'm, it's just old..." she said in a small voice, mortified, and feeling like she was about to drop down from the stool the lady had placed her on.