when they git in to dinner takes off their waists altogether and
sets down to eat all stripped off to a scrap of an underbody. That's
true, for pa saw it when he was takin' cream over to Ponsonby's; the
windows was open on the piazza, and he couldn't refrain from peekin',
though I hope you'll not repeat. Of course they may feel dreadful sweaty
after chasin' round in the sun all day, though I wouldn't hold such
sudden coolin' wholesome; but why if women so doin' should they insist on
men folks wearin' collars, say I?"

I told the dear soul that I had never quite been able to understand the
_reason why_ of many of these things, and that my ways were also quite
different from those of the Bluff people; for though father and Evan had
been brought up to wear collars, I had never yet stripped to my underbody
at dinner time.

Thus emboldened, she beckoned me mysteriously toward the best parlour,
saying as she went, "Lurella seen the picture of a Turkey room in the
pattern book, and as she's goin' to have a social this spring, she's
fixed a corner of it into our north room."

When the light was let in I beheld a "cosey corner" composed of a very
hard divan covered with a broche shawl, and piled high with pillows of
various hues, while a bamboo fishing-pole fastened crosswise between the
top of the window frames held a sort of beaded string drapery that hung
to the floor in front, and was gathered to the ceiling, in the corner,
with a red rosette. On close examination I found, to my surprise, that
the trailers were made of strings of "Job's Tears," the seed of a sort of
ornamental maize, the thought of the labour that the thing had involved
fairly making my eyes ache.

"That is a very pretty shawl," I remarked, as no other truthful word of
commendation seemed possible.

"Yes, it is handsome, and I miss it dreadful. You see, it belonged to
pa's mother, and I calkerlated to wear it a lifetime for winter best, but
the fashion papers do say shawls are out of it, and this is the only use
for them, which Lurella holds. I can't ever take the same comfert in a
bindin' sack, noway; and pa, he's that riled about the shawl bein' used
to set on, I daren't leave the door open. Says the whole thing's a 'poke
hole,' and the curt'in recollects him of 'strings of spinnin'
caterpillars,' and 'no beau that's worth his shoes won't ever get caught
in no such trap,' which is most tryin' to Lurella, so I hev to act
pleased, and smooth things ove