ng the ruinous customs charges, and
are therefore forced to go through the weary round of dispatching the
same old stage wardrobe out of the country and bringing it back again
every season. Even when the clothes are quite reduced to shreds and
patches the rags have to be elaborately packed, identified by lynx-eyed
officials, and sent at least outside the three-mile limit of the
American Continent to be thrown away!

The first big white reception room of the Maison contains a long table
usually littered with samples, some chairs, and a large mirror lit like
that of a star's dressing room. There is a mantelpiece covered with
photographs of singers of all grades of celebrity, each dedicated with a
message of admiring affection to Marie Muelle. Around the wall are
various _armoires_, one containing a library of works on costume,
another a glittering collection of stage jewelry, a third many
portfolios of water-colour designs for every sort and kind of theatrical
garment for every role.

Oh! those designs! A young soprano has won an engagement in Monte Carlo
and wants a stage wardrobe for her repertoire. Out comes the "Modern
French" portfolio with a bewildering series of blonde and sinuous
_Thaises_, Moyen-Age _Melisandes_, a scintillating _Ariane_ in contrast
to a demure little work-a-day _Louise_; and the lady spends a delightful
afternoon in selecting her favourites.

Then Muelle sends for an armful of samples--

"_Crepe de chine_, of course, for the _Thais_. Yes, in flesh pink with
plenty of embroidery. Here is an _echantillon_"--and she pins it to the
drawing.

The singer picks out a scrap of heavy, lustrous crepe--

"No, not that quality. That is something special, and there is no more
to be had for love or money."

Colours and fabrics are decided upon, all tested for becomingness under
the bunched electric lights, which mimic the strong light of the stage.
Each design has an assortment of tags of material pinned where many
others have been pinned before. Muelle is an expert in colours for the
stage. She doesn't talk learnedly of synthetic dyes, processes, or
German competition, but she can give you a bright blue that is warranted
to stay blue, no matter what vagaries of lighting a stage manager may
indulge in.

Her pale colours never turn insipid, nor her dark ones muddy. She keeps
a special dyeing establishment busy with her orders alone, and
twenty-four hours seems time enough to obtain any shade known to