"I can make one dress for you now, but no more. I cannot finish the one for you in less than three weeks."
"That will answer. I am Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson. I expect my sister, Mrs. Stover, here in three weeks, and the dress is for her. We are both the same size, and you can fit the dress to me."
The terms were satisfactorily arranged, and after measuring Mrs. Patterson, she bade me good morning, entered her carriage, and drove away.
When I went up-stairs into the work-room, the girls were anxious to learn who my visitor was.
"It was Mrs. Patterson, the daughter of President Johnson," I answered, in response to several questions.
"What! the daughter of our good Moses. Are you going to work for her?"
"I have taken her order."
"I fear that Johnson will prove a poor Moses, and I would not work for any of the family,"
