When she had got her fit of crying over accordingly, she jumped up to her feet and hurried to her room to put on her “things.” It was her “best things” that she put on. Indeed, Polly had been wearing her best things every day with an extravagance which rather touched her conscience, though it delighted her fancy. She made herself very fine indeed that wintry afternoon, and pattered downstairs upon a pair of high heels which were more splendid than comfortable, and burst into the little room where Captain Despard sat attentive to all these sounds, and wondering what was coming next. Few people realise the advantage of a silly wife to a man who is not over wise. The Captain, though he had a high opinion of himself, was aware at the bottom of his heart that other people scarcely shared that sentiment. And to have a wife whom he was fond of, and whose acquisition flattered his vanity, and who was unmistakably, though clever enough, less clever, less instructed, than he was, gave him a sense of superiority which was very pleasant to him. He looked upon her follies with much more indulgence than he had ever felt for Lottie, who did not give him the same consolation. “Well, what is it now?” he said, with a smile. “I want you to come out with me,” Polly said. “I want to buy some things. My old muff is shabby, I couldn’t wear it in the Abbey. Though they’re a set of old frights and frumps, I don’t wish your wife to be looked down upon by them, Harry. I can see them looking at all my things, counting up what everything costs, and whispering behind my back. That old Mrs. Jones has trimmed her bonnet exactly like mine, though she looks as if she was too grand to see me. They ain’t above copying me, that’s one thing.” “No wonder,” said the admiring husband; “for it is long since anything so young and so handsome has been among them before. Don’t they wish they could copy your face as well as your bonnet! that’s all.” “Oh, get along!” said Polly, well pleased; “you’re always flattering. Come and buy me a muff. I don’t know what kind to get. Grebe is sweetly pretty and ermine is delicious, but sealskin, perhaps, is the most genteel; that always looks lady-like. Did you see Mrs. Daventry go by in her carriage? Ah!” Polly sighed; how could she help it? She was very fine in her blue silk, but Augusta was finer. “She has just come from France, you know, and then, of course, they are rich. She had on a velvet with sable _that_ deep----! Ah! it’s hard to see folks that are no better than you with things that are so much better,” cried Polly; “but, after all, though velvet and sable are very nice, give me sealskin--that’s always lady-like. A sealskin jacket!--if I had that, I don’t think there is anything more I should wish for in the world.” “Are they very dear?” said the Captain, with a sudden fit of liberality. He had a native love of buying, which is very general with impecunious persons, and at present was in a prodigal mood.