"Don't look so distressed, all of you," she pleaded. "How can I interest
myself to-day in anything but Mr. Cecil Burleigh's address to the
electors of Norminster and my own new bonnet?"
"_That_ is very becoming, for a consolation," said the milliner with an
affronted air.
"I think it is," rejoined Bessie coolly. "And if you will not bedizen me
with artificial flowers, and will exonerate me from wearing dresses that
crackle, I shall be happy. Did you not promise to give me simplicity and
no imitations, Miss Jocund?"
"I cannot deny it, Miss Fairfax. Natural leaves and flowers are my
taste, and graceful soft outlines of drapery; but when it is the mode to
wear tall wreaths of painted calico, and to be bustled off in twenty
yards of stiff, cheap tarletan, most ladies conform to the mode, on the
axiom that they might as well be out of the world as out of the fashion.
And nothing comes up so ugly and outrageous but there are some who will
have it in the very extreme."
"I am quite aware of the pains many women take to be displeasing, but I
thought you understood that was not 'my style, my taste,'" said Bessie,
quoting the milliner's curt query at their first interview.
"I understand now, Miss Fairfax, that there are things here you would
rather be without. I will not pack up the tarletan skirts and artificial
flowers. With the two morning silks and two dinner silks, and the tulle
over the blue slip for a possible dance, perhaps you will be able to go
through your visit to Brentwood?"
"I trust so," said Bessie.
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