Alack and alas! The effect of careering through the fresh country air, tinged as it was with the brine of the ocean, had been to make Regina thoroughly enjoy the lunches by the wayside, and the more elaborate dinners of the evening hour. We all know the effect of good French soup, various kinds of omelettes, in short, of excellent bourgeois cooking, and this effect had stolen upon Regina like a thief in the night, and neither by coaxing nor force could she get herself into the garment in which she desired to travel to town.
"Good heavens!" she exclaimed in a tone of anxiety, "I must have put on stones while I have been away. The old proverb says 'Laugh and grow fat,' and I take it that laughter and happiness have the same effect if one has a tendency that way. What shall I do?"
There was only one thing to be done, and that was to get into one of the despised and discarded gowns in which she had loomed large and important on the French horizon, and take herself in quest of new ones as quickly as possible. Then she remembered that she had sent a little message on the wings of unanimity, a little message which had been signed, "Your broken-hearted Miranda." Surely by now there would be a reply to it. She finished her toilette, hiding as much of her gown as she could by the addition of a large lace cape which she had bought as a bargain in the little French town where she had been so happy, and then she went downstairs and sought for the back numbers of the ladies' periodical to which she had written. They were in their accustomed place, the four numbers which she had not yet seen. She began with the last. "Faded Iras," "White Heather," "White Rose," "Pussy Cat," were the first words which met her eyes. There was no "Broken-hearted Miranda," and she went on to the next number, and there, at the top of the column, was the name she was seeking.
"My poor broken-hearted Miranda," the reply ran, "how grieved and sorry I am for you! Are you sure that your conjectures are correct? I have known wives who made themselves very unhappy on very small grounds--not that I wish to imply that your grounds for uneasiness are small, but are you quite sure? If I were you I would take every means of finding out. With regard to what you tell me of yourself, I can see you, my poor Miranda, in my mind's eye, and I hasten to assure you that, whether you are right or wrong, you will not regret taking yourself in hand in the beauty sense. For your adipose tissue, I would recommend you to try Madame Winifred Polson's little brown tablets. They are wonderful in their effect on stout figures, particularly in reducing bulk below the waist. If you begin them, be sure that you give them a very good trial, and that you carry out her instructions fully and to the very letter. Now, for your complexion, I can advise you no better than to go to Madame Alvara. You needn't be the least nervous of going to her, as it is not a shop, but she has an elegant private house on the best side of Grosvenor Square. You will probably meet three duchesses on the stairs, and may have to wait some time, unless you make an appointment. Place yourself unreservedly in Madame Alvara's hands; she will restore to you the skin of your childhood. For your hair--well, that is difficult. I think you ought to write to me again and tell me what kind of hair you have, whether it is thin or grey, that I may advise you whether to go to a hair specialist or an artiste in _toupes_. Write to me again, my dear Miranda, and pray believe that nothing is too much trouble if I have the reward of knowing that I have helped you to your legitimate end."