Effie Why can’t I?
Vivian. You are much too young and giddy (frivolous, I should say) to understand the high motives and lofty ideals of the S. O. M. F. You don’t even know who Socrates was.
Effie No; but I know he’s nothing to do with your society or you’d never have mentioned his name. I’m not quite a baby, Miss Vivian, if my dresses aren’t down to my ankles. My ankles aren’t so big I’m ashamed to show ’em, either! S. O.—Society Of—oh, I’ll find out your old secret yet!
Florence. Effie, you’re a perfect terror. (Calling.) Betty! Betty!
Enter Betty.
Betty. Oh, what is it?
Florence. If you have any faint remnant of regard for that small sister of yours, rescue her before I fall upon her with evil intent and commit a fell and awful murder with malice aforethought.
Betty. Justifiable homicide, I should call it. What’s the kidlet been doing now?
Effie (indignantly). Kidlet yourself, Bettina Warren! Oh, Betty, you’ve got a badge, too! Do tell me what S. O. M. F. means. I’m dying to know!
Enter Lillian.