On Approval.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 978, 28 November 1890, Page 11

On Approval.

•What on earth d’ye call that thing?’ I asked, poking with my stiok at a bunch of grapes poised airily upon a brass stand. . * That thing,’ replied my consin proudly, *> a the very latest Parisian fashion in bonnets,’

I sank baok into the little lounge that ran along the side of the room you -couldn’t insult .any thing so dainty with the name of ‘ shop ’ —and gazed upon its owner with an exclamation more profane than appropriate. It must at once be confessed that she was a oharming object to gaze at. There was an expression of wicked amusement in her large gray eyeß, and the black gown she still wore in mourning for her husband—poor Jack Henderson, who was killed in the Soudan set off the lines of her slender young figure, and threw her golden hair and fair skin prettily into relief. ‘ Pull yourself together, my dear boy,’ she continued, opening the door of an old carved oak oabinet, ‘and I will show you something that even your crude male intelleot will appreciate. If you don’t say it’s lovely,-I’ll never let you inside the shop again. Yon may flatten your nose against the window, or stroll disconsolately up and down the street ia vain 1 No more chats, no more teas in the back room 1’

So saying, she lifted gingerly from the shelf a large hat, and, planting it upon her pretty head, turned triumphantly towards me. It was lovely—quite lovely : a sort of arrangement in amethyst velvet and feathers to match. Being only a miserable and ignorant male, of oourse I can’t describe it, bat it was uncommonly becoming, and made Nina look like a Gainsborough picture. I told her so, and gushed over it sufficiently to satisfy her.

•It’s my own idea, shape and all, and there isn’t another like it in the world. I may possibly copy it, but I’m not sure. It depends upon who buys it. How I wish you were a woman, Ronald,’ she sighed regretfully, ‘ and I would make you buy it for Asoot to-morrow 1’

• I wish I were, my dear. But why don’t you go and wear it yourself ?’ ‘ Gracious ! and leave the shop for a whole day at this early stage of its existence ? You Guardsmen have no more idea of business than a baby. No, I can’t go ; bat I hope you’ll have a luoky day and a good time ; and, Ronald dear, if you were nice you’d just look in one day soon and tell me what sort of day you had. O, and be sure you don’t forget to notice what hats and bonnets people wore.’ I promiahd to do my best, and took my leave reluctantly as a large and portly matron, gorgeously arrayed, and whose features unmistakably betrayed her Semitic origin, sailed in and demanded a small flower-bonnet.’

That woman in a flower-bonnet I I hope, poor soul, that Nina saved her from herself.

1 What are yon going to do this afternoon, Ronald ?’ asked my mother three days later. * I wish yon would come and call with me on the Vanderdeckens.’

‘ Can’t, my dear mother. Promised to go and see Nina.’

Visions of Miss Yanderdeoken, rich as Croesus, bat 0, so deadly dull, hastened my movements, and I was half-way to Oxfordstreet before my mother could call me back. I found Madame ‘Destrier, as my cousin oalls herself, just parting with a customer. The hat was in her hand.

‘l’ve sold it,' she cried gleefully; ‘just sold it to that nice girl for five guineas.’ ‘Awfully glad, I’m sure. But, my dear girl, I’ve a shock in store for you. I saw the very model and marrow of that hat at Ascot the day before yesterday.’ ‘ You couldn’t, you couldn’t! Who was wearing it ?’ she cried sharply. ‘ One of our reigning professional beauties —Lady I.oddington.’ • Lady Loddington 1’ gasped Nina, catching hold of tha chair behind her. ‘ Ronald, are you sure yon aren’t making any mistake ?’

* I swear I’m not. She had on a frook the colour of the hat, and she looked simply ripplDg. I paid her all the compliments I could think of in the five minutes I was talking to her.’

‘The cheat, the swindle of it 1’ oried my oousin, white with anger. ‘ My dear girl, calm yourself ! I’m sorry for you, but great minds, as you know, will jump, and some other clever woman has had the same idea as yon.’ Nina was past taking any notice of the in suiting suggestion. She seemed thoroughly apset by the oonoidence, and looked as is she were going to cry. ‘ Why did I ever go into business ?’ she cried miserably; ‘it’s simply awful to get behind the scenes like this and find ont how mean woman—well-bred women, who ought to know better—can be. We were all brought up with the old-fashioned noblesse oblige ideas, Ron—you were too—and it seems to me now that there is hardly any one in sooiety who has a notion of honour and dignity, as we used to understand the terms. Society 1 After all, I’m thankful I'm more

or leas out of it, It’s just a herd of people poshing, struggling, selling everything for notoriety and money.’

• Hear, hear ! Your sentiments, madam are mine. Bat I don’t think they should be wasted on the mere faot that some other woman has made a hat like yours.’ * She hasn’t 1’ oried Nina indignantly. ‘Lady Loddington was wearing this very hat! Listen, I'll tell you the whole story. The same afternoon you called, a woman came in beautifully dressed, and asked to see some hats. I saw who she was, though I’ve never met her. I don’t want to meet her,' savagely ; • one sees quite enough of her m all the shop-windows.’ ‘ One does,’ I remarked sotto voce ‘ She wanted a hat the colour of thin one ; so I brought it out and showed it her, and told her the price, and explained why it was so expensive. •0, I don’t mind giving that for the hat,’ she said, ‘it ia well worth it. I am ouite in love with it, Madame Destrier, but I daren’t buy it without letting my husband see it. He is so very particular what I wear. Could I have it sent round to night for him to look at? I would let you know some time to-morrow whether I would take it or not.’ Of course I said I should be glad to send it, and she gave me the address, and the hat went round there that evening. Last night she sent it back and said she was very sorry, but Lord Lodding ton didn’t think it suited her. I thought It looked a little tumbled, but one has to run those risks when one sends goods on approval. She had determined to have that hat just for the one day, and she was too mean to get it honestly.’ ‘Of course you’ll have it out with heryou’ll expose her ?’ I said. I was as angry and disgusted ns Nina, who stood opposite me, with her pretty eyes and cheeks flaming with honest indignation. °

* My dear boy, I would if I dared, but I can't afford to. It would drive half my customers away from me, and I must thiuk of Hugo and Giles. They don’t cost much while they are auoh tlnies, but I want to give them every advantage, the darlings, and I was left so badly off, and the business is just beginning to pay so well. I daren’t run the risk of exposing Lady Loddington’s meanness.

* I had forgotten your children. No, I see it wouldn’t do. Trust me to give her a mauvais quart d’heure, if I get the chance.’ ‘ Promise you’ll be careful. Think of the boys !’

‘ I won’t injure the dear little chaps, you beßt of mothers.’

‘ Well, in that case I only hope fortune may favour you' Fortune did favour me at last, but she kept me waiting till the autumn, like the fickle jade she always is. My obance came in this wise. My uncle asked me up to his place in Scotland for shooting, and I went, xhe old gentleman is a great connoisseur of beauty, and every pretty woman of note is bound to be asked up to D. Booner or later. I got there in time to dres3 hurriedly and appear in the drawing room just as my uncle was telling everyone whom they were to take in. I was introduced to some girl—l haven’t a notion who she was—bat I gave her my arm, and took her down to dinner, murmuring oommonplaoes on the way. The truth is I was half famished with my journey, and my one idea was dinner. It was not till I was well on with the fish stage that I looked at my left-hand neighbour. It was Lady I-oddington herself. ‘ I haven’t seen you since we met at Ascot,’ she remarked pleasantly. She certainly is a most lovely woman, by the way. I stared blankly, and she went on, with an air of well-acted reproach. ‘ I believe you have forgotten we ever met there.’

Here was my chanoe; I seized it. ‘ Forgotten ! Why, I remember every word you said, the colour of your gown, and even the very hat you wore—the loveliest and most becoming hat I ever saw in my life.’

The compliment told. ‘I don’t believe you do,’ she pouted. _ 1 Upon my word I do. It was a sort of big affair of amethyst velvet and flowers to match. I remember it with double force, because I made a cousin of mine quite angry with the mere description of it. I don’t know if you have ever met her ? She has gon9 into the millinery, like everybody else. She calls herself “ Madame Destrier.”’ 1 looked Lady Loddington full in the face, and laid a peculiar emphasis on the name. I never saw any one so thoroughly caught in my iife. I knew in a moment that she knew I knew, as Punch would put it. She turned perfectly scarlet to the roots of her heir, and then quite white, and didn’t speak for at least a moment. Then she pulled herself together as only a woman can, and adroitly changed the subject. But she has been monstrously civil to me ever since, much to the surprise of my friends. lam plain and uninteresting ;I am not a personage ; I haven’t a farthing—not even expectations—sod they can’t make out where the attraction liee. They had better ask Madame Destrier nf Oxford-street to enlighten them. —The World.