He adopted his usual line of defence through dinner and constantly brought the subject of conversation back to the need for a reduction of expenses. He did not see Blanche wink at Millie across the table, during these strategic exercises; nor catch the glance of understanding which passed between the girls and their mother. So, as his dinner comforted and cheered him, Gosling began to relax into his usual facetiousness; incredibly believing, despite the invariable precedents of his family history, that his daughters had been convinced of the hopelessness of approaching him for money that evening. The credulous creature even allowed them to make their opening, and then assisted them to a statement of their petition. They were talking of a friend's engagement to be married, and Gosling with an obtuseness he never displayed in business remarked, "Wish my gels 'ud get married." "Talking about us, father?" asked Blanche. "Well, you're the only gels I've got--as I know of," said Gosling. "Well, how can you expect us to get married when we haven't got a decent thing to put on?" returned Blanche. Gosling realized his danger too late. "Pooh! That don't make any difference," he said hastily, adopting a thoroughly unsound line of defence; "I never noticed what your mother was wearing when I courted 'er." "Dessay you didn't," replied Millie, "I dessay most fellows couldn't tell you what a girl was wearing, but it makes just all the difference for all that." "Of course it does," said Blanche. "A girl's got no chance these days unless she can look smart. No fellow's going to marry a dowdy." "It does make a big difference, there's no denyin'," put in Mrs Gosling, as though she was being convinced against her will. "And now the sales are just beginning----" Poor Gosling knew the game was up. They had made no direct attack upon his pocket, yet; but they would not relax their grip of this fascinating subject till they had achieved their object. Blanche was saying that she was ashamed to be seen anywhere; and procrastination would be met at once by the argument--how well he knew it--based on the premise that if you didn't buy at sale-time, you had to pay twice as much later. It was quite useless for Gosling to fidget, throw himself back in his chair, frown, shake his head, and look horribly determined; the course of progress was unalterable from the direct attack: "Do you like to see us going about in rags, father?" through the stage of "Well, well, 'ow much do you want? I simply can't afford----" and the ensuing haggles down to the despairing sigh as the original minimum demanded--in this case no less than five pounds--was forlornly conceded, and clinched by Blanche's, "We must have it before the end of the week, dad, the sales begin on Monday."