“Your silk,” continued her aunt, “will be quite the thing for church.” She looked hard at the dress, as if it were not quite the thing for breakfast. Mrs. Erwin herself wore a morning-dress of becoming delicacy, and an airy French cap; she had a light fall of powder on her face. “What kind of overthing have you got?” she asked.
“There's a sack goes with this,” said the girl, suggestively.
“That's nice! What is your bonnet?”
“I haven't any bonnet. But my best hat is nice. I could—”
“No one goes to church in a hat! You can't do it. It's simply impossible.”
“Why, my dear,” said her husband, “I saw some very pretty American girls in hats at church, last Sunday.”
“Yes, and everybody knew they were Americans by their hats!” retorted Mrs. Erwin.
“I knew they were Americans by their good looks,” said Mr. Erwin, “and what you call their stylishness.”
“Oh, it's all well enough for you to talk. You're an Englishman, and you could wear a hat, if you liked. It would be set down to character. But in an American it would be set down to greenness. If you were an American, you would have to wear a bonnet.”
“I'm glad, then, I'm not an American,” said her husband; “I don't think I should look well in a bonnet.”