pointed overskirt, copied from a Donovan dress of
Mamma's; and a dark-red surah, and oh! a perfect
"frou-frou" of wash-dresses, of course; two _sweet_ white
lawns, one trimmed with valenciennes (I _hate_ valenciennes,
you know, but Mamma _will_ make me have it, because she
thinks it is _jeune fille_!), and one with the new Russian
lace; and a pink sateen, and two or three light chambrays.

But now I know you will be _dying_ to hear about my hats;
for you always say that the hat _makes_ the costume; and so
it _does_! Well, my dearest, I have _one_ Redfern hat, and
_only_ one. Mamma says I cannot expect to have more until I
come out, which is _bitter_. However, this one is a
_beauty_, and yet cost _only_ thirty dollars. It goes well
with nearly all my dresses, and is _immensely_ becoming, all
the girls say: very high, with long pointed wings and stiff
bows. _Simple_, my dear, doesn't _express_ it! You know I
LOVE simplicity; but it is _Redferny_ to a
_degree_, and _everybody_ has noticed it.

Well, my dearest Queen, here am I running on about myself,
as if I were not actually EXPIRING to hear about
you. What my feelings were when I called at your house on
that _fatal Tuesday_ and was told that you had gone to spend
the summer on a _farm_ in the _depths_ of the country,
passes my _power_ to tell. I could not ask your mother many
questions, for you know I am always a little bit
AFRAID of her, though she is _perfectly lovely_ to
me! She was very quiet and sweet, _as_ _usual_, and spoke
as if it were the most _natural_ thing in the _world_ for a
brilliant society girl (for that is what you _are_, Hilda,
even though you are only a school-girl; and you
NEVER can be anything else!) to spend her summer in
a wretched farm-house, among _pigs_ and _cows_ and dreadful
ignorant people. Of course, Hilda dearest, you know that my
admiration for your mother is _simply_ IMMENSE, and
that I would not for _worlds_ say _one syllable_ against her
judgment and that of your _military angel_ of a father; but
I MUST say it seemed to me MORE than
strange. I assure you I hardly closed my eyes for several
nights, thinking of the MISERY you must be
undergoing; for _I_ KNOW you, Hildegarde! and the
thought of my proud, fastidious, high-bred Queen be