n worse confounded;"
everything topsy-turvy. Mrs. DeSmythe on couch; Madam Sateene and she
looking over lace samples, of which they have a great number. Madam in
"swell" street costume.)

_Mrs. De S._ (tossing samples in a heap). There's positively nothing
like it! Nothing anywhere near it!

_Madam_ No, and nothing that can be used.

_Mrs. De S._ (snatching a bit of lace from the heap). There! That's a
lover's knot pattern. Why, it--

_Madam_ No, that's a sailor's knot. There is a great difference.

_Mrs. De S._ (vaguely). I don't see it.

_Madam_ (patiently). You see the loop in this bends down and in this, it
bends--goes up. Every difference in the world, my dear Mrs. De
Smythe.

_Mrs. De S._ (meekly, but convinced). Wouldn't it do? All bunched up?

_Madam_ But it is not to be bunched up!

_Mrs. De S._ (with a profound sigh). What can we do? And I threatened
with an attack!

_Madam_ I don't know! (rises, sits down, then groans). I am at my wit's
end. Let me think.

_Mrs. De S._ (with an inspiration). Take the lace off!

_Madam_ (crushingly). My dear Mrs. De Smythe, the gown is modelled for
lace.

_Mrs. De S._ (helplessly). Oh!

(Madam sits in brown study, tapping her forehead.)

_Madam_ Let me see; Wednesday morning. (looks at watch). Ten o'clock. It
might be done. Practically two days. (sits staring at wall). No, it
couldn't! We might use chiffon.

_Mrs. De S._ Maude hates chiffon.

_Madam_ (with professional coldness). Chiffon is a very artistic
trimming.

_Mrs. De S._ (wearily). It may be--it may be, but you know Maude.

(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer.)

_Miss H._ (looks around; sniffs at the untidiness). Jennie, you look
ready to faint!

_Mrs. De S._ Sit down. Don't stand there like--a--wooden Indian!

_Miss H._ They don't keel over every few minutes, anyhow! (sits with a
thud). You look ready to faint!

_Mrs. De S._ I feel ready to faint; the lace has given out.

_Miss H._ (picking up things). The lace--?

_Mrs. De S._ (with infinite patience). The lace, you know, for Maude's
dress.

_Miss H._ (blankly). Eh--what dress?

_Madam_ (in polite surprise). Why, Miss Hoppenhoer, what dress?

_Mrs. De S._ (shrilly). What dress,--oh, Matilda!

_Miss H._ (commencing to "straighten" room in earnest). Oh, is that all?
I thought the President had been assassinated!

_Mrs. De S._ Matilda! I must say you don't seem much interested. I
should think you would,--your own niece, too!

_Miss H._ (tr