CHAPTER XXIII.
Mrs. Howe was lying on a sofa in her boudoir, in a showy robe-de-chambre of green, with cherry facings, over an elaborately embroidered white petticoat. She had on also toilet slippers, with green and cherry trimmings, and a very fanciful breakfast cap.
"Fall fashions open to-day, eh?" said she, laying a nicely printed envelope, scented with "millefleurs," with which Madame Du Pont had announced that important fact to her customers.
"Madame will have loves of things, just as she always does. I shall be so happy in looking them over. I think I must have a lilac hat; madame thinks lilac best suited to my complexion. Mr. Finels likes me in lilac; as to John, he don't appear to know one color from another. I don't think, however, a man ever knows what his wife has on. Madame Du Pont would make very little if we had only our husbands to dress for; yes, I will have a lilac hat, and I will go there before any other woman has a chance to make a selection of the best. I must go in a carriage: Madame Du Pont never pays any attention to a lady who comes on foot; a hackney-coach is terribly vulgar. I must persuade John to set up a carriage. I will contrive the livery myself. I wonder what is our family coat-of-arms? I must go to the heraldry office, I think, and buy one; a bear would be most emblematical of John—how cross he is getting! I never should get along at all without Finels." And Mrs. Howe drew out her gold watch, and then rising, surveyed herself in the long glass.
"Well, Mary, what is wanted?"
"If you please, ma'am, Mr.—— Mr.——, I forget his name, is below, and wants to speak with you a few minutes."
"You stupid creature, you should have brought up his card. How am I to know who it is? or whether it is worth while to make any change in my dress or not?"
"I guess it is, ma'am," said Polly, with a sly look. "It is—Mr.——, Mr.——Fin—Tin—"
"Finels?" asked Mrs. Howe, innocently.