produced later on in the future week. To settle these points exactly was a long business, and frequently led to complications, but the Sabbath was observed.
They were all in their best Sunday raiment, and the Missus found herself again regretting the very stiff cassava starched petticoat that invariably marks the full dress of the self-respecting "coloured lady." In their work-a-day clothes they would have looked characteristic, and even picturesque, but in their attire, and absurdly over-trimmed "church hats," they appeared at their worst.
Fortunately, like most of us poor mortals, they were sublimely unconscious of their own deficiencies, for in each other's eyes (which, after all, is where our standard of taste is to be sought for) their faintly coloured flowered prints and white Gainsborough hats, over-burdened feathers and mock pearls, with looked very correct, and what they themselves termed "stylish," even although they surmounted a collection of tightly plaited woolly locks.
The Missus gave a regretful glance at these adornments, and sighed softly even while she smiled.
