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“I doubt it. Let us hear what he further says; perhaps that will guide us to a truer meaning?”

“He says: ‘But be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds.’ That elucidates and gives force to what goes before.”

“So I think, clearly upsetting your position. The apostle evidently has reference to a deeper work than mere external non-conformity in regard to the cut of the coat, or the fashion of the dress. Be ye not conformed to this world in its selfish, principles and maxims–be ye not as the world, lovers of self more than lovers of God–but be ye transformed by the renewing of your minds. That is the way I understand him.”

“Then you understand him wrong, Mary,” uncle Absalom spoke up. “If he had meant that, he would have said it in plain terms.”

“And so he has, it seems to me. But I am not disposed to excuse my adherence to fashion upon any passage that allows of two interpretations. I argue for it upon rational grounds.”

“Fashion and rationality! The idea is absurd, Mary!” said uncle Absalom, with warmth. “They are antipodes.”

“Not by any means, uncle, and I think I can make it plain to you.”

Uncle Absalom shook his head, and aunt Abigail fidgeted in her chair.

“You remember the celebrated John Wesley–the founder of that once unfashionable people, the Methodists?” Mary asked.

“O, yes.”

“What would you think if I proved to you that he was an advocate for fashion upon rational principles?”

“You can’t do it.”

“I can. On one occasion, it is related of him, that he called upon a tailor to make him a coat. ‘How will you have it made?’ asked the tailor. ‘O, make it like other people’s,’ was the reply. ‘Will you have the sleeves in the new fashion?’ ‘I don’t know, what is it?’ ‘They have been made very tight, you know, for some time,’ the tailor said, ‘but the newest fashion is loose sleeves.’ ‘Loose sleeves, ah? Well, they will be a great deal more comfortable than these. Make mine loose.’ What do you think of that, uncle? Do you see no rationality there?”

“Yes, but Mary,” replied aunt Abigail, “fashion and comfort hardly ever go together.”

“There you are mistaken, aunt. Most fashionable dress-makers aim at producing garments comfortable to the wearers; and those fashions which are most comfortable, are most readily adopted by the largest numbers.”

“You certainly do not pretend to say, Mary,” Henry interposed, “that all changes in fashions are improvements in comfort?”

“O no, certainly not. Many, nay, most of the changes are unimportant in that respect.”

“And are the inventions and whims of fashion makers,” added aunt Abigail with warmth.

“No doubt of it,” Mary readily admitted.

“And you are such a weak, foolish girl, as to adopt, eagerly, every trifling variation in fashion?” continued aunt Abigail.

“No, not eagerly, aunt.”

“But at all?”

“I adopt a great many, certainly, for no other reason than because they are fashionable.”

“For shame, Mary, to make such an admission! I really thought better of you.”

“But don’t you follow the fashions, aunt?”

“Why Mary,” exclaimed both uncle Absalom and her brother, at once.

“Me follow the fashions, Mary?” broke in aunt Abigail, as soon as she could recover her breath, for the question struck her almost speechless. “Me follow the fashions? Why, what can the girl mean?”

“I asked the question,” said Mary. “And if you can’t answer it, I can.”

“And how will you answer it, pray?”

“In the affirmative, of course.”

“You are trifling, now, Mary,” said uncle Absalom, gravely.

“Indeed I am not, uncle. I can prove to her satisfaction and yours, too, that aunt Abigail is almost as much a follower of the fashions as I am.”

“For shame, child!”

“I can though, uncle; so prepare yourself to be convinced. Did you never see aunt wear a different shaped cap from the one she now has on?”

“O yes, I suppose so. I don’t take much notice of such things. But I believe she has changed the pattern of her cap a good many times.”