w-won't
graduate, so there now!

_Miss H._ (mounting a chair to straighten a picture). That's sensible!
You needn't. I never did.

_Mrs. De S._ Matilda, do not encourage the child! Of course she must
graduate. Everybody does.

_Miss H._ (sarcastically). If everybody stood on their heads, I suppose
we'd have to!

_Mrs. De S._ You cannot judge in such matters, Matilda. You are very
old-fashioned.

_Miss H._ (upsetting contents of work basket in lap). Maybe so, maybe
so, but I am alive, and that child'll be dead if--

_Mrs. De S._ (holds her head). Matilda, for heaven's sake, stop!

_Maude_ I'll telephone Valeria. May be she--

_Mrs. De S._ (with decision). Maude, sit down! You will do nothing of
the sort. Mrs. Reynolds is such a talker! The whole town would know it
in ten minutes. Besides, at the Tuesday Club she cut me--actually
cut me! I will not permit it.

_Maude_ I don't think that ought to count, now. I suppose I have to have
something to wear.

_Madam_ What do you say to a Paris muslin?

_Maude_ (listlessly). What is a Paris muslin?

_Madam_ A sort of fine organdie.

_Maude_ Swell?

_Mrs. De S._ Maudie! Would Madam Sateene propose anything else? She
doesn't want you to look like a fright. Now, I think,--(pauses,
listening). Why there is papa's voice!

_Maude_ Papa, bless his old bones! Papa, come in here, quick! Hurry up!

(Mr. De Smythe comes in hastily.)

_Mr. De S._ What is it--what is it? Is Mamma worse?

_Maude_ (in tragic attitude). I can't graduate!

_Mr. De S._ (with profound astonishment). Can't graduate? Can't
graduate? Didn't you pass?

_Maude_ (scornfully). Pass! That doesn't matter! My dress, my dress, my
dress!

_Mr. De S._ (immensely relieved). Oh, your dress! Isn't it fine enough?

_Madam_ Why, you see, Mr. De Smythe, the--

_Maude_ (sobbing and clinging to his neck). I got to have chiffon, ugly,
limp, old chiffon! It is so--so--d--drabbled!

_Mr. De S._ Well, never mind! Hus-s-h! You'll make Mamma worse. You
needn't graduate! Never mind.

_Maude_ Oh, oh!

_Mr. De S._ Never mind, little girl, you needn't graduate! Never mind!

_Maude_ Oh, I--I must. The presents are coming in.

_Miss H._ (shortly). Return 'em.

_Maude_ You wouldn't, if they were yours! You know you wouldn't! Oh,
you're all so mean!

_Madam_ (soothingly). Let's have Paris muslin. It'll be lovely.

_Mrs. De S._ It's too stiff.

_Miss H._ And sounds too furrin! Haven't we got any American mus