Now it happened that Master Hugh wore turn-over collars, famous for two peculiarities, viz., the moment they were put on, clean and smooth, they became rumpled and dirty--and the strings by which they were fastened, were the victims to a suicidal propensity for tearing themselves violently off, so that the amount of starch, labour, and tape, required to preserve these collars in an efficient condition, formed a serious item in the household expenditure. Although the excellent factotum, Sarah, declared upon oath (not a _very_ naughty one) that she had reviewed the delinquents cautiously that day fortnight, and been able to report them fitted for service, yet, at the eleventh hour, when she was actually packing Hugh’s box, there were only three strings and a quarter remaining among the twelve collars, and there was no reliance to be placed even upon them. Moreover, on examination, there was discovered to have been such a run upon tape, of late, that not an inch of that useful article was forthcoming throughout the entire establishment. Under these appalling circumstances, Emily nobly volunteered to go to Flatville, and invest capital in the purchase of a “whole piece of tape.” But the boys were absent on a skating expedition; and the roads were slippery, and the pony had not been roughed, and Emily, not liking to walk by herself, set off, no way loth, to enlist Caroline Selby as her companion. Here, however, a difficulty arose. Mr. Selby was just starting in his phaeton, to drive over to the railroad station, two miles beyond Flatville, and his daughter was going with him, for the sake of a drive. Caroline was perplexed: had it been only to give up her own plans, she would gladly have done so; but between her father and her friend, a double sacrifice was required of her, and being only a single woman, she was unable to meet the demand. Mr. Selby, happily, hit upon an expedient. He proposed a compromise: Miss Colville should do him the honour to take a seat in his phaeton (he called it ph_ee-a_ton), _he_ would drive her as far as Flatville; his _daughter_ should alight with her: they should make their _little_ purchases (the words in italics he uttered in a tone of the tenderest affection); and the ph_ee-a_ton, in returning from the station, should call and pick them up. Mr. Selby was a very polite man; and perpetually rubbed his hands together, as though he were playing at washing them, a habit possibly induced by a consciousness of all the dirty work he had performed. Emily patronised him, steadily disbelieving everything that was hinted against him, because he was Caroline’s father,--a piece of scepticism, amiable, illogical, and womanly, which we rather admire in the young lady than otherwise.