Never since the
extravagant days of her early youth had she enjoyed such a feast of
millinery. To an aunt the provision of a wedding outfit is peculiarly
delightful. She has all the pomp and authority of a parent, without a
parent's responsibility. She stands _in loco parentis_ with regard
to everything except the bill. No uneasy twinge disturbs her, as the
glistening silk glides through the shopman's hands, and ebbs and flows in
billows of brightness on the counter. No demon of calculation comes between
her and the genius of taste, when the milliner suggests an extra flounce of
Marines, or a pelerine of Honiton.
A trip to London, and a fortnight or so spent in West-end shops, would have
been very agreeable to Mrs. Oliver; but on mature reflection she convinced
herself that to purchase her niece's trosseau in London would be a foolish
waste of power. The glory to be obtained in Wigmore or Regent-street was
a small thing compared with the _kudos_ that would arise to her from the
expenditure of a round sum of money among the simple traders of Holborough.
Thus it was that Clarissa's wedding finery was all ordered at Brigson and
Holder's, the great linendrapers in Holborough market-place, and all made
by Miss Mallow, the chief milliner and dressmaker of Holborough, who was in
a flutter of excitement from the moment she received the order, and held
little levees amongst her most important customers for the exhibition of
Miss Lovel's silks and laces.
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