f place in such a life as this, except
perhaps one or two of tried principles, which won't spot or fade or
misbehave themselves in any way. One goes out of a warm, dry afternoon
with a tulle veil on to keep off the flies, or a feather in one's hat,
and returns with the one a limp, wet rag and the other quite out of
curl. I only wish any milliner could see my feathers now! All straight,
rigidly straight as a carpenter's rule, and tinged with red dust
besides. As for tulle or crepe-lisse frilling, or any of those soft
pretty adjuncts to a simple toilette, they are five minutes' wear--no
more, I solemnly declare.

I love telling a story against myself, and here is one. In spite of
repeated experiences of the injurious effect of alternate damp and dust
upon finery, the old Eve is occasionally too strong for my prudence, and
I can't resist, on the rare occasions which offer themselves, the
temptation of wearing pretty things. Especially weak am I in the matter
of caps, and this is what befell me. Imagine a lovely, soft summer
evening, broad daylight, though it is half-past seven (it will be dark
directly, however): a dinner-party to be reached a couple of miles away.
The little open carriage is at the door, and into this I step, swathing
my gown carefully up in a huge shawl. This precaution is especially
necessary, for during the afternoon there has been a terrific
thunderstorm and a sudden sharp deluge of rain. Besides a swamp or two
to be ploughed through as best we may, there are those two miles of deep
red muddy road full of ruts and big stones and pitfalls of all sorts.
The drive home in the dark will be nervous work, but now in daylight let
us enjoy whilst we may. Of course I _ought_ to have taken my cap in a
box or bag, or something of the sort; but that seemed too much trouble,
especially as it was so small it needed to be firmly pinned on in its
place. It consisted of a centre or crown of white crepe, a little frill
of the same, and a close-fitting wreath of deep red feathers all round.
Very neat and tidy it looked as I took my last glance at it whilst I
hastily knotted a light black lace veil over my head by way of
protection during my drive. When I got to my destination there was no
looking-glass to be seen anywhere, no maid, no anything or anybody to
warn me. Into the dining-room I marched in happy unconsciousness that
the extreme dampness of the evening had flattened the crown of my cap,
and that it and its fril