When we moved into our new house there were many things to be bought. I spent a happy day with lists as fat as encyclopædias, but that seemed such an expensive way to shop that I finally went to London instead. Lists are so attractive. Everything looks desirable, and one remembers so much that one would otherwise forget that it seems wiser to go to the shop itself. One gets disillusioned there in no time before the actual things. It becomes delightful not to have them in one’s own house. Above all, one gets so weary of going “straight through on the left.” Nothing seems worth while at the cost of going straight through on the left. I went straight through on the left for hours at a time, and at last came to a large window looking out on to a fire-escape. “Are you quite sure the poker department is straight through on the left?” I asked the shopwalker. “Quite sure, Madam,” he replied. “Then,” I said, “if you will hold my parasol and my hat and wait until I take off my skirt, I will go there. I see it is down the fire-escape.” “Oh, no. Madam,” he said, “this way, please.” It was not anywhere near the left: it was to the right, and down some stairs, and round two corners, and past the drapery. I bought the poker and tongs and then asked for a shovel. The man directed me to the ironmongery department. “No, Madam,” I was told, “this is the furnishing. Kitchen department is in the ironmongery.” “Thank you,” I said, “I know it is straight through on the left, but could you tell me, do you think, in other words, where that is?” “Straight through on the left, Madam.” “Very well,” I said. “I understand that I climb over these wardrobes, cut my way through the carpets, and proceed straight through the wall.” “Past the hosiery, Madam, straight through on----” I took the young man’s arm and asked if he would mind coming with me. “Now, tell me,” I said confidentially, as we threaded our way to the right, and up and down the stairs, round the gallery and home by the gent.’s outfitting. “Just stop a moment and try to follow what I am saying. You see this ribbon counter on my right?” “Yes, Madam.” “And the silk remnants in front of me?” “Yes, Madam.” “And the stationery at the back?” “Yes, Madam.” “Very well then, how can all these points of the compass be straight through on the left?” “It all depends which way you are standing, Madam.” “I see; then when I want anything that is on the ground floor and you tell me to go straight through on the left, the best thing I can do is to lie down on my left side and try to remember which way you are facing?” We were divided here by a stream of dishevelled women passing in different directions. “Ribbons, forward!” said the young man, and he disappeared--I suppose straight through on the left.