e _en militaire_."

"And did the waterfall and the jockey cost anything?"

"They were very, very cheap, papa, all things considered. Miss
Featherstone will remember that the waterfall was a great bargain, and
I had the feather from last year; and as to the jockey, that was made
out of my last year's white one, dyed over. You know, papa, I always
take care of my things, and they last from year to year."

"I do assure you, Mr. Crowfield," said Miss Featherstone, "I never saw
such little economists as your daughters; it is perfectly wonderful
what they contrive to dress on. How they manage to do it I'm sure I
can't see. I never could, I'm convinced."

"Yes," said Jenny, "I've bought but just one new hat. I only wish you
could sit in church where we do, and see those Miss Fielders. Marianne
and I have counted six new hats apiece of those girls',--_new_, you
know, just out of the milliner's shop; and last Sunday they came out
in such lovely puffed tulle bonnets! Weren't they lovely, Marianne?
And next Sunday, I don't doubt, there'll be something else."

"Yes," said Miss Featherstone,--"their father, they say, has made a
million dollars lately on government contracts."

"For my part," said Jenny, "I think such extravagance, at such a time
as this, is shameful."

"Do you know," said I, "that I'm quite sure the Misses Fielder think
they are practicing rigorous economy?"

"Papa! Now there you are with your paradoxes! How can you say so?"

"I shouldn't be afraid to bet a pair of gloves, now," said I, "that
Miss Fielder thinks herself half ready for translation, because she
has bought only six new hats and a tulle bonnet so far in the season.
If it were not for her dear bleeding country, she would have had
thirty-six, like the Misses Sibthorpe. If we were admitted to the
secret councils of the Fielders, doubtless we should perceive what
temptations they daily resist; how perfectly rubbishy and dreadful
they suffer themselves to be, because they feel it important now, in
this crisis, to practice economy; how they abuse the Sibthorpes, who
have a new hat every time they drive out, and never think of wearing
one more than two or three times; how virtuous and self-denying they
feel when they think of the puffed tulle, for which they only gave
eighteen dollars, when Madame Caradori showed them those lovely ones,
like the Misses Sibthorpe's, for forty-five; and how they go home
descanting on virgin simplicity, and resolving th