"You would not say so," said Mrs. Dodcomb, "if you were to see him in daylight without his paint, and without his chestnut wig (they have all sorts of wigs, even flax, tow, and yarn). His natural face and hair are both of the same clay-colour. As to his neck, it's nothing when it is not coated all over with whitening—and then his stage legs are always padded."
"Mr. Jones, you are a judge of those things—what do you suppose that man's dress is made of?" asked Mr. Dodcomb.
"Scarlet cloth and gold lace."
"Fudge! it's only red flannel, trimmed with copper binding."
"I'm sorry to hear that," observed Mrs. Jones—and during the remainder of the piece she designated him as "the man in the flannel jacket."
"That's a pretty hat of his sweetheart's," she remarked, "that gauze hat with the long white feathers—how light and airy it looks!"
Miss Flimbrey now giggled. "I made it myself, this morning," said she, "it's only thin catgut, with nothing at all outside—but at a distance, it certainly may be taken for transparent gauze."
From this time Mrs. Jones distinguished the actress as "the woman with the catgut hat."
The hero of the piece appeared in a new and magnificent dress, which was very much applauded, as new and showy dresses frequently are. It was a purple velvet, decorated profusely with gold ornaments, somewhat resembling rows of very large buttons; each button being raised or relieved in the centre, and having a flat rim round the edge. They went up all the seams of the back, and down the front of the jacket, and round the cuffs; and, being very bright and very close together, the effect was rich and unique. Also, one of them fastened the plume and looped up the hat, and two others glittered in the rosettes of the shoes.
"Oh! how grand!—how very grand!" exclaimed Mrs. Jones. "This dress beats all the others!"