"But every one else does; Some change them five times. You would not like me to come down in the morning and go up to bed at night in the same dress, would you?" "I suppose not. It's of no use asking me about dress, Selina. I scarcely know one gown from another. But it does strike me that you have a most extraordinary number of new things. Go out or come in when I will, there's sure to be the milliner's porter and basket at the door." "Would you have me look an object?" "You never do look an object." "Of course I don't. I guard against it. I'd give the world to go to this fête at the Burnhams'. Every soul will be there, but me." "And why not you, if your heart is so set upon It? I think all such affairs a stupid bore: but that's nothing." "Would you wish me to go there in a petticoat?" "No; I suppose not. I tell you I am no judge of a lady's things. I don't think I should know a petticoat from a gown. Those are gowns, are they not, hanging in rows round the walls in the room above, and covered up with sheets and table-cloths." "Sheets and table-cloths! Oscar!" "My dear, they look like it." "Well--if they are gowns--there's not one I can wear." "They are all recently new," said Mr. Dalrymple. "What's the matter with them?" "There's not one I can wear," persisted his wife. "But why?" "Why!" repeated Mrs. Dalrymple, in quite a contemptuous tone, for she had no patience with ignorance. "You ought to know why!" "My dear, I really don't. If you wish me to know, you must tell me." "_I have worn them all once_," was the angry answer. "And some twice, and some three times. And one---- Oscar," she broke off, "you remember that lovely one; a sky blue, shot with white; a robe à disposition?" "What is à disposition?" "Oh--a silk, flounced, and the flounces have some designs upon them, embossed, or raised, sometimes of a different colour. That dress I have worn five times. I really have, Oscar; five times! "I wear my coats fifty times five." "The idea of my being seen at Lady Burnham's in a dress I have worn before! No; I'd rather go in a petticoat, of the two evils, and hide my head for ever after." Mr. Dalrymple was puzzled. "Why could you not be seen, there or anywhere else, in a dress you have worn before?" "Because no one else is." "Then what becomes of all the new gowns?" inquired the wondering man. "For goodness' sake, do not keep on calling them 'gowns.'" "Dresses, then. What becomes of them?" "Oh--they do for the country. Some few, by dint of retrimming, can be made to look new for town. You don't understand ladies' dresses, Oscar." "I have said I do not." "Neither ought you," added Selina, crossly. "We do not worry ourselves to interfere between you and your tailors, or pry into the shape and make of your waistcoats and buttons and things, and we do not expect to have it done by us." "Selina, let your grievance come to an end. I do not like to hear this tone of reproach."