Ursula said she quite believed it, because she knew, if she turned her long corsets upside down, they would reach high enough up to support the military collar at the back of her neck, and thus save boning.
I felt it was high time we got back to “Antizeptics,” and suggested that we should put something in the first column of the schedule, which was headed: “Things to place in readiness beforehand.”
Mrs. Brash announced that she wasn’t ever going to take her clothes off any more till the war was over, if this was the sort of goings-on we were to expect.
General opinion, however, was decidedly in favour of, at any rate, removing the outside frock, simply because we none of us saw any prospect of ever being able to afford to buy a new one.
Then we all said what we thought ought to go into that column. Woollen undies, a fur-lined coat, a thick dressing-gown, a raincoat, a travelling rug, and all sorts of other things, were to be placed close to the bedside. This was insisted upon as a matter of the greatest importance; otherwise, in the dark, we should never find anything, and of course it wouldn’t be safe to have a light.
Miss Thresher and Miss Quirker had a small sub-committee on the subject of stockings—should they be worn all night in bed? Miss Thresher said obviously it was the only sensible course. Miss Quirker objected that she should kick hers off in her sleep in any case, hers was such a delicate skin (as a child people had always remarked on it), though probably women less sensitive than herself might be able to endure them. But if she lost hers among the bedclothes she would never find them in the dark.
Eventually they compromised by agreeing to safety-pin a pair to the front of the nightdress (as they fasten your handkerchief to you in the hospital), so that at least they would know where to find them in case of precipitate flight.
Meanwhile the question, “Should hats be worn?” necessitated Ursula and Mrs. Brash going into another sub-committee on the lounge. Mrs. Brash favoured a shawl—preferably white—being draped over the head; it was more suited to the négligé condition of the hair. This led her to consult Ursula about the winter’s hat she was evolving. She had had an exceedingly good white and black crinoline hat the summer before last, and the winter before last she had had a very lovely violet velvet toque—the rich deep colour favoured by Queen Alexandra.
Last winter she had taken the violet velvet from the hat of the winter before, and put it over the crinoline hat of the summer before (you can follow this, I hope?), and everybody had admired it. Now she proposed to return the violet velvet to its original toque, only this time she would smother it with some violets she had by her, and she had a really beautiful little sable skin which she proposed to put round the brim. Did Miss Ursula think the violets and the fur would combine well?
Ursula said she herself didn’t care for fur and flowers in combination, because she always associated sables with snowy northern regions, whereas violets suggested soft spring days and awakening woods and gardens.