Lesbia entered Seraphine’s Louis-seize drawing-room with a faint expectation of unpleasantness; but after a little whispering between Lady Kirkbank and the dressmaker, the latter came to Lesbia smiling graciously, and seemingly full of eagerness for new orders.

’Miladi says you want something of the most original—­tant soit peu risque—­for ‘Enley,’ she said.  ‘Let us see now,’ and she tapped her forehead with a gold thimble which nobody had ever seen her use, but which looked respectable.  ’There is ze dresses that Chaumont wear in zis new play, Une Faute dans le Passe.  Yes, zere is the watare dress—­a boating party at Bougival, a toilet of the most new, striking, ecrasant, what you English call a “screamer."’

‘What a genius you are, Fifine,’ exclaimed Lady Kirkbank, rapturously.  ’The Faute dans le Passe was only produced last week.  No one will have thought of copying Chaumont’s gowns yet awhile.  The idea is an inspiration.’

‘What is the boating costume like?’ asked Lady Lesbia, faintly.

‘An exquisite combination of simplicity with vlan,’ answered the dressmaker.  ’A skin-tight indigo silk Jersey bodice, closely studded with dark blue beads, a flounced petticoat of indigo and amber foulard, an amber scarf drawn tightly round the hips, and a dark blue toque with a largo bunch of amber poppies.  Tan-coloured mousquetaire gloves, and Hessian boots of tan-coloured kid.’

‘Hessian boots!’ ejaculated Lesbia.

’But, yes, Miladi.  The petticoat is somewhat short, you comprehend, to escape the damp of the deck, and, after all, Hessians are much less indelicate than silk stockings, legs a cru, as one may say.’

‘Lesbia, you will look enchanting in yellow Hessians,’ said Lady Kirkbank, ‘Let the dress be put in hand instantly, Seraphine.’

Lesbia was inclined to remonstrate.  She did not admire the description of the costume, she would rather have something less outrageous.

‘Outrageous!  It is only original,’ exclaimed her chaperon.  ’If Chaumont wears it you may be sure it is perfect.’

‘But on the stage, by gaslight, in the midst of unrealities,’ argued Lesbia.  ‘That makes such a difference.’

’My dear, there is no difference nowadays between the stage and the drawing-room.  Whatever Chaumont wears you may wear.  And now let us think of the second day.  I think as your first costume is to be nautical, and rather masculine, your second should be somewhat languishing and vaporeux.  Creamy Indian muslin, wild flowers, a large Leghorn hat.’

‘And what will Miladi herself wear?’ asked the French woman of Lady Kirkbank.  ‘She must have something of new.’

’No, at my age, it doesn’t matter.  I shall wear one of my cotton frocks, and my Dunstable hat.’

Lesbia shuddered, for Lady Kirkbank in her cotton frock was a spectacle at which youth laughed and age blushed.  But after all it did not matter to Lesbia.  She would have liked a less rowdy chaperon; but as a foil to her own fresh young beauty Lady Kirkbank was admirable.