EL. Go on, tell her, Fanshaw. [_Rises and goes to centre._ MRS.
LORRIMER _and_ FANSHAW _sit on sofa._

FANSHAW. [_Laughing._] Oh, it's nothing, only I sent it to Mrs. Bayley
myself three Christmases ago as a philopene. I suppose she thought I
wouldn't remember, but she forgot both our initials are marked on the
bottom.

ETHEL. [_At table, examining presents. Laughing._] Yes, my dear, and
Marion found them. People really ought to be more careful.

MRS. LORRIMER. Think of a woman with all Mrs. Bayley's
money-- [_Interrupted._

ETHEL. My dear, it is the rich who do these sort of things. Every year
all my second-hand Christmas cards and calendars come from my
wealthiest friends! And there's that thing-- [_Lifting a vase._] Isn't
it hideous? I don't know who sent it but-- [_Interrupted._

MRS. LORRIMER. _I_ do.

ETHEL. [_Innocently._] Who?

MRS. LORRIMER. I did.

ETHEL. Good gracious. [_Laughs._] I assure you I haven't any taste.
[ETHEL _down centre._ FANSHAW _rises_.

FANSHAW. No, not a bit. [_Goes back of sofa and up to table._ ETHEL
_up stage by table._

ETHEL. How many presents did Marion get, anyway? [_Looking among the
things on the table._

MRS. LORRIMER. I don't know. [_Satirically._] I didn't count them.

ETHEL. I don't believe she got very many--Marion has always taken up
so many poor people. I'm sure I never can tell what she sees in them!
[ETHEL _crosses right of table_.

MRS. LORRIMER. Oh, yes, Ethel, I know how you choose your friends. The
other day I heard you were running after the Lloyds--that settles it,
I said--they are either going to have a box at the Opera this year, or
give a series of dinners, or a big ball. Ethel knows what she's about.

FANSHAW. Exactly--Ethel knows her business, but you left out one
thing--they have the best cook in town, too.

ETHEL. [_Taking up a box with a large silver fish knife in it._] Who
gave her this fish knife?

MRS. LORRIMER. The Conrads, didn't they.... [ETHEL _bursts out
laughing_.

ETHEL. Ha! ha! ha! If that isn't appropriate! You know the old man
Conrad made all his money out of imitation sardines!

FANSHAW. And very bad imitations, too.

MRS. LORRIMER. Well, if I could make as much as Conrad, I'd be willing
to imitate codfish!

ETHEL. [_Takes up a small box at which she has been looking._] Here's
my present. I might as well take it home with me and save you the
trouble. [_Puts it in her pocket. She looks at silver hand-glass._

MRS. LORR