lin? I'd
rather wear gunny sack.

_Mr. De S._ Hurrah for Matilda! A female Patrick Henry!

_Mrs. De S._ Papa, don't speak so loud!

_Mr. De S._ (contritely). I beg your pardon, Mamma,--your poor head!

_Maude_ I want something pretty! Not--not just--just any old thing!

_Madam_ (with awful dignity). Paris muslin is beautiful.

_Maude_ The other girls have silk.

_Mr. De S._ Then you must have silk, too,--decidedly. Mustn't she,
Mamma?

_Mrs. De S._ (sighing). I do not know, Papa, I do not know. This is a
dreadful time,--a dreadful time. I fear I shall not live to see her
graduate! (sighs dismally). But you will all enjoy it. Matilda, will
you heat the salt bags?

(Miss Hoppenhoer bounces out.)

_Maude_ (flies to couch). O, you precious, precious Mamma! Don't you
dare get sick and die!

(Katherine opens the door.)

_Katherine_ Miss Reynolds and Mr. Hamilton.

_Maude_ Hello, Valeria, how you vas? Jack, did you get 'em?

_Jack_ (bows to ladies, shakes hands with Mr. De Smythe). Couldn't
_Maude_, nothing but red.

_Maude_ Red! I can't wear red! Madam Sateene, can I?

_Madam_ (after due deliberation). Yes, you can. You will need a touch
of color.

_Valeria_ Why don't you carry pink ones?

_Jack_ Pink roses are lovely. You carried pink ones at the Junior
Banquet, didn't you, Val?

_Valeria_ (thoughtfully). Did I? Yes, I did! Bridesmaid, I think they
were.

_Maude_ I hate pink roses!

_Mrs. De S._ Maudie, Maudie, do not be so vehement!

_Mr. De S._ Never mind about the roses. They are a side issue. The
question is, "Wherewithal shall you be clothed!" I must be off to earn
your daily cake. Let's decide.

_Maude_ (pensively). Jack, do you like Paris muslin?

_Jack_ Is it anything like Plaster of Paris?

_Maude_ Jack, behave! I am so worried! (signs of tears.)

_Valeria_ She's just tired, poor dear; don't tease her, Jack.

_Maude_ (with dignity). I am not tired. He can't tease me, thank you,
_Valeria_. I think, Madam, I will have Paris muslin. Silk is so common.

_Jack_ Why don't you have bobinet?

_Valeria_ Why, Jack, bobinet is--

_Jack_ I know what bobinet is; heavy and kind of corded,--dead swell.

_Maude_ That's pique!

_Mr. De S._ Well, children, defer that discussion until the Fourth of
July. Is there time for a whole new rig?

_Madam_ Y-e-s,--I think so.

_Mr. De S._ Cheer up, everybody! We'll have the prettiest frock in the
outfit, if it breaks the R.I.P. Railroad! We are the