Jack [desperately]: Oh, really, I can’t possibly go that night; I have another engagement; I—I—you see I have to go to prayer meeting.
Miss Firmrock: To prayer meeting! I’ve never seen you there in my life, so you can put off your starting for another week.
Jack [aside]: If I don’t have nervous prostration by then, there’s nothing for it but to get myself smashed up in an auto accident. [Aloud.] Well, I’ll do my best, Miss Firmrock. Were you wanting to buy anything?
Miss Firmrock: Yes, a pair of boots.
Jack [pulls chair out]: Now just sit here, Miss Firmrock and I’ll fit you. What size do you take?
Miss Firmrock: Six and a half.
Jack [aside as he gets a box from table]: Now, let me see; the rule I’ve learned by bitter experiences is, “Tell the dears they have such little feet you’re sure they should take a smaller size.″ Very well, I’ll just do that little thing. [Aloud.] Now let me try these sixes on you, Miss Firmrock. I’m sure you can’t take a larger size than that, you have such little feet. [Gets down on knees to fit shoe. Miss F. boxes his ears and he tumbles over.]
Miss Firmrock: How dare you make fun of my feet? [Whacks him with umbrella. Jack jumps up.] I know they’re large and I’m proud of it. The only people capable of having big ideas in their heads are the ones with feet large enough to give them a good understanding. [Grabs parcels.] I’d like you to know that I’m not a silly, giggling fashion-plate who insults her feet by sticking them into shoes far too small for them and then minces along with her heels raised on stilts. I can see you can’t suit me so I’ll try another store, and you needn’t bother about that speech, either. We can manage without it. [Goes towards door R.]
Enter Mr. Wilson.
Mr. Wilson [goes forward and shakes hands]: How-do-you do, Miss Firmrock. Allow me to congratulate you on the excellent work you did in the prohibition campaign. It’s women like you who are bringing about the reforms that are so badly needed in this country. And did you get the boots you wanted?