up appearances"; and no more bitter phrase could, perhaps, have been invented to describe our childish folly.
If we possess a hundred pounds a year, do we not call it two? Our larder may be low and our grates be chill, but we are happy if the "world" (six acquaintances and a prying neighbour) gives us credit for one hundred and fifty._-_212.jpg)
And, when we have five hundred, we talk of a thousand, and the all-important and beloved "world" (sixteen friends now, and two of them carriage-folks!) agree that we really must be spending seven hundred, or, at all events, running into debt up to that figure; but the butcher and baker, who have gone into the matter with the housemaid, know better.
After a while, having learnt the trick, we launch out boldly and spend like Indian Princes—or rather seem to
