trimming, headed by yards of flat pleating, and that in turn headed by yards of folds.  The dainty sack and hat, and the four-buttoned gloves, were as faultless as to fit and as delicate in color as the dress.  In short, Miss Flossy looked as though she might be ready for an evening concert.  Moreover, she felt as if she were, or at least she had an uncomfortable consciousness as to clothes.  She kept a nervous lookout for the lower flounce whenever the crowd of people surged her way, and brushed vigorously at the arm of the seat she had chosen ere she dared to rest her arm on it.  Evidently she had given herself over to the martyrdom of thinking of and caring for clothes during this journey, and I don’t know whether there is a greater martyrdom made out of a trifle than that.  It was one of Flossy’s besetting sins, this arraying herself in glory, and making wrinkles in her face in the vain attempt to keep so.  Not that she was particularly anxious to save the wear and tear, only she hated to look spotted and wrinkled, and she could never seem to learn the simple lesson of wearing the things best suited to the occasion.

Standing near her, toying carelessly with her traveling fan, and looking as though the thought of dress was something that had passed utterly by her, was Miss Erskine.  She looked like one of those ladies whom gentlemen in their wisdom are always selecting, pointing them out as models.  “So tasteful and appropriate, and withal so simple in their dress.”

Let me tell you about her dress.  It was plain dark brown, precisely the shade of brown that the fashion of the season required.  It was of soft, lusterless silk.  It was very simply made, almost severely plain, as Miss Erskine knew became a traveler.  In fact, elegant simplicity marked her entire toilet, everything matched, everything was fresh and spotless, and arranged with an eye to remaining so.  I am willing to concede that she was faultlessly dressed, and it was a real pleasure to see her thus.  But I am also anxious to have the gentlemen understand that that same simple attire represented more money than two wardrobes like Flossy Shipley’s.  It is often so with those delightfully plain and simple dresses that attract so many people.  In fact, it might as well be admitted, since we are on that subject, that elegant simplicity is sometimes a very expensive article.

Eurie Mitchell was neither particularly elegant nor noted for simplicity, yet her dress was not without character.  We see enough of that sort to become familiar with what it means.  Its language is simply a straightened purse, necessitating the putting together of shades that do not quite harmonize, and trimming in a way that will cover the most spots and take the least material.  That was Eurie’s dress.  Skirt of one kind and overdress of another.  A very economical fashion, and one not destined to last long, because of its economy, and the fact that very elegant ladies rather curl their lips at it, and call