but Mother Crickford-Crocker not in Fancy Dress, as I thought,—and she the very one who says that any man who goes to a Fancy Dress Ball in ordinary dress is a lazy hound, and any woman who does so is an unoriginal slut. Her own sweet words, I assure you. . . . Well, I was so flabbergasted at seeing her there in her usual dowdy, shabby style, only a bit worse than usual, that, like the silly Ass I am, I blurted out:—
"‘Hullo, Mrs. Crickford-Crocker, why aren't you in Fancy Dress?'
"‘She just gave me one fearful glare, lasting about five minutes, and then snorted:—
"‘Insolent puppy,' and marched off! And now I may as well chuck the Army, I s'pose."
"But what annoyed her so?" asked Mummy.
"Why—I asked the same thing of Lady Peggy Hillyer and she shrieked with laughter. When she could speak she mocked my simple ‘Why aren't you in Fancy Dress, and then squealed 'The woman has come as "My Grandmother"’ I thought she'd have a fit. . . . How was I to know the old thing was got up as her own grandmother? I thought the spring-
