My Wife’s Dresses.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 839, 30 March 1888, Page 9

My Wife’s Dresses.

(By Imber.)

Before I became a married man I was for many years a bachelor—that is to say, at least, I mean that I was for many years single. The point, however, that 1 wish to get at is this. When I was single I remained so principally from the dreadful accounts I read and heard of the awful sum it took to dress a woman properly. What it cost to dress her improperly I never figured out. Ones upon a time when I was dreadfully * sweet ’ on a girl, I went so far as to buy a book entitled ‘ How to Dress as a Lady on £6O a Year.’ I believe that book settled me, for although I was considerably smart in most matters, I was simple enough to believe that the contents of that book was true. I worked out the affair in figures my income was so much, I spent so much for my own clothes, housekeeping would cost so much, and a wife could dress like a real lady for £6O a year. That left me a fair margin for etceteras, only I did not know at the time what those things were. However, as I figured out that my balance-sheet would show a slight favor of profit or gain without loss, I cot a fixed idea into my head—that I was old enough and wise enough to take the responsibility of boarding and lodging and clothing another man’s daughter at my own expense. I did so, or at least I started, and before our honeymoon was over I mado my wife a present of the little book. She thanked me and smiled. Now why she smiled I conld not for the life of me understand at that time. But I am older and wiser now and know more about matters*in general. I’ve got a tidy little wife, and I like to see her dress well. As a rule I never ask her what things cost. I let her have all the money I can spare, and as she is economical I never insult her by asking for the change ; and ever since we have beeD married I always thought she managed very well. But last Christmas I got a slight eye-opener. She had complained to me that her dressmaker was rather high in her charges, and she would have to look out for a fresh one. Now I am a great believer in the power of the press, and always like to patronise those who advertise. So looking in my morning paper at breakfast one day I saw that Mrs Blank, of High Street, had commenced dressmaking at most moderate charges. That fixed it at once. I said nothing to my wife, but called round on Mrs Blank myself, and asked what she charged for making a walking dress. After assuring me that she was about the cleverest and most fashionable dressmaker in Windytown, she said she would make my wife a dress—‘a perfect fit you know,’ for 14s 6d. I was satisfied. I went down town to where a big sale was going on and selected a nioe dres3 piece. I got the curled and perfumed young lady who served me to include with the purchase all those odds and ends which constitute the mystery of a lady’s dress. I don’t know what she gave me, but I made her swear—at least, not swear exactly, but promise faithfully that there was in the parcel everything requisite to finish the dress. There was the lining for the skirt, silicia, I think she called it. Then there was the body-lining and sleeve-lining and Victoria lawn, although I don’t know what that means. There were whalebone slips, for giving * tone ’ to the body she said ; there ware steel springs, or something of that kind for * the improver ’; there were hooks and eyes, buttons and black and white tape for some mysterious pull-backs or catch-ups or general tie-ups; anyhow, she assured me that every item that could possibly be wanted was there, even to silk and thread for the sewing part thereof. I never said a word to my wife, but I sneaked an old dress whioh I knew fitted her like a glove and of a shape or pattern she was fond of, and so I took the whole lot to this Mrs Blank. I told her to get it finished by Taesday night, for Wednesday was my wife’s birthday, and I wanted to surprise her with a new dress, and at the same time to show her what a clever husband she had got. Now when Tuesday evening arrived I counted out the 14s 6d in small change, which was the price to be paid for making the dress. It so happened that all the cash I had in the house that night was 15s, so the balance of 6d was not much in my favour I heard the rap at the door, when the dressmaker's young lady brought home the work. I tripped gaily to the door, took in the parcel, and asked the young lady for the bill. ‘ If you please, could you pay me now, as it is the first work Mrs Blank has done for you,’ said the damsel. ‘Of course,’ said I. ‘ How much is the amount ?’ I did not want the girl to imagine that I knew anything about it. ‘Here is the bill, sir.’ I looked at it mechanically, and saw, oh, horror! as follows: ‘To making dress, 14b 6d ; furnishings, S 3 ; tapes, 6d ; etceteras, 2s 6d ; total, £1 Os 6d. Here was a pretty fix to be in. I had only 15s in the house, and I had left my cheque book down at the office. »All right, my dear, I’ll call and pay Mrs Blank in the morning.’ ‘lf you please, sir, I was not to leave the dress without the money.’ Oh, here was-a pretty go. By this time my wife, who of course was not the least bit jealous, but at the same time does not like to see me chatting to a pretty girl on the doorstep without knowing what the chat is about, came along the hall with ‘ what is it dear ?’ and then seeing the bundle on the floor, where I had dropped it while looking at the blessed bill, picked it up and took it into the sitting-room. I had to ask the young damsel to follow us, and showing my wife the bill, explained I had not enough money to pay it. She soon advanced me the requisite balance, and the bill was paid, and

I put my wife into possession of her new dress. She was delighted at first, and I was so elated at the reception that I coolly told her what I had done Then she called me an old fool for my pains, and told me never again to interfere with drossmaking. But for the life of me I can’t make out the mastery of a dressmaker s bill. When I want a suit of clothes made my tailor says ‘oh, yes ; this pattern is £3 10s,’ and I say * yes,’ and he sends me home the clothes and I pay him £3 10s and no more ; but here, when Mrs Blank says 14s fid—and to prevent any extra expense I buy all the little extras she requires she, in the most natural manner, tots up ‘furnishings, 3s.’ Now what on earth ‘ furnishings ’ are I can’t for the life of me find out. Then tape Gd, and I supplied double the amount of tape that any sensible woman would require. Then etceteras 2s 6d. What the d , I mean what the dickens are etceteras, when I had found linings of three kinds, the hooks, eyes, buttons, whalebone, steels, and all the rest of the funny gear. I give it up. It is a horrible, dark and heavy mystery. But one lesson I have learned. The next time my wife’s birthday comes round, and I pay another visit to some other Mrs Blank, I shall take a witness with mo and I’ll make thvfc dressmaker sign and seal a document to the effect that if the charge forjnaking a dress is 14s fid all found, that is *the exact price at which she will have to deliver the rest of My Wife’s Dresses.