Clo whispered in Victoria's ear with agonised sharpness,
"Dem boots am so high, an' my ankle is guv out, jes ondo de buttons!"
A stone might have sympathised with her maidenly distress, but that wicked Victoria burst into absolute shrieks of laughter.
"Oh, oh, oh! yer ole fool!" she cried, between her shouts of merriment. "Yer too ole for new fashions—telled yer so!"
Clorinda's outraged modesty was forgotten in the fury which Victoria's lack of sympathy caused.
"Jis let me git up!" cried she. "I'll fix yer; I'll frizzle dem long beaucatchers like a door mat, an' stamp on 'em."
"What am it?" demanded Dolf.
As well as she could speak for laughing, Victoria began "She's just choked up her foot in Miss Harrington's high pinercled boots!"
"Hush up!" interrupted Clo. "I'll pisen yer if yer don't shut yer impudent mouth."
"Ki! ki! ki! oh, laws, I shall die! Ole folks hadn't orter try to be young uns. I've telled yer so, Clo, fifty times," shrieked the yellow maiden; "'tain't no wonder yer snickered, Dolf; borrered feathers! he, he! Vic!"