But it
was unnecessary. Not only could I call to mind in the most lively way
every dress I have, but, I do believe, every dress I ever did have since
my frocks were let down or done over from yours. I suppose that ought
to make me feel rather young, oughtn't it? To remember every dress I
ever owned? But it doesn't. I'll be twenty-one this month, you know--a
year older than you were when your ears were gladdened by my first howl.
I'm sure it was unearthly, yet that you said at once to Dad: "The dear
child is going to be musical!"

But to return to the wardrobe of the heiress's understudy. It consists
of my every-day tailor-made, two white linen coats and skirts, a darned
collection (I don't mean that profanely) of summer blouses, and the
everlasting, the immortal, black evening dress. Is it three or four
years old? I know it was my first black, and I did feel so proud and
grown-up when you said I might have it.

You'll be asking yourself: "Where is the blue alpaca she bought in the
Bon Marche sale, which was in the act of being made when I left for _la
Suisse_?" Up to now I've concealed from you the tragical fact that that
horrid little Mademoiselle Voisin completely spoiled it. I was so
furious I could have killed her if she'd been on the spot. There is no
rage like the dress rage, is there?

My one hope is that the Dragon may take as little interest in Ellaline's
clothes as he has taken in Ellaline's self, or that, being used to the
costumes of the Bengalese, which, perhaps, are somewhat sketchy, he may
be thankful that his ward has any at all.

You see, I can't tell Ellaline about this, because she couldn't help
thinking it a hint for her to supply the deficiency, and I wouldn't let
her do that, even for her own credit. Anyhow, there'd be no time to get
things, so I must just do the best I can, and carry off the old gray
serge and sailor hat with a stately air. Heaven gave me five foot seven
and a half on purpose to do it with.

Now I must pack like heat-lightning; and when I've finished I shall send
the brown box and the black Gladstone to the Gare de Lyon, where _he_
will arrive from Marseilles. That is rather complicated, as of course we
must go to the Gare du Nord for Calais or Boulogne; but he mayn't wish
to start at once for England, and in my new character, as his ward, I
must be prepared to obey his orders. I hope he won't treat me as he
seems to have treated the Bengalese! The luggage of Miss Ellaline