MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'A new astrakhan jacket he gave her, with Venus
sleeves.'

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'Has she sold her gabardine coat?'

MRS. MICKLEHAM. 'Not her! She has them both at the theatre, warm night
though it is. She's wearing the astrakhan, and carrying the gabardine,
flung careless-like over her arm.'

THE HAGGERTY WOMAN. 'I saw her strutting about with him yesterday,
looking as if she thought the two of them made a procession.'

MRS. TWYMLEY. 'Hsh!' peeping, 'Strike me dead, if she's not coming
mincing down the stair, hooked on his arm!'

Indeed it is thus that Mrs. Dowey enters. Perhaps she had seen shadows
lurking on the blind, and at once hooked on to Kenneth to impress the
visitors. She is quite capable of it.

Now we see what Kenneth saw that afternoon five days ago when he emerged
from the bathroom and found the old trembler awaiting his inspection.
Here are the muff and the gloves and the chiffon, and such a kind old
bonnet that it makes you laugh at once; I don't know how to describe it,
but it is trimmed with a kiss, as bonnets should be when the wearer is
old and frail. We must take the merino for granted until she steps out
of the astrakhan. She is dressed up to the nines, there is no doubt
about it. Yes, but is her face less homely? Above all, has she style?
The answer is in a stout affirmative. Ask Kenneth. He knows. Many a time
he has had to go behind a door to roar hilariously at the old lady. He
has thought of her as a lark to tell his mates about by and by; but for