"You're quite right, Mrs. Jerome. Things slip off my tongue that oughtn't to. Personally, I don't care a straw. But other people—"
"Don't worry about other people, my dear," said Mrs. Jerome, who had enjoyed the tit-for-tat immensely. "I'm not likely to desert Madame Paulette. At least not while she keeps anyone with your healthy face and fascinating eyes here to talk to me. Mind, I'm not gone on these Paulette frocks. I guess the Madame knows that pretty well. But this establishment is run by a woman, a woman from my own country. That means a good deal to me. For although our sex is coming into its own, the pace isn't a dizzy one. The men see to that. And so I say, this is a time for all good women to stand by one another."
The little lady sank back in her seat and, as though exhausted by her long speech, closed her eyes. When she opened them again, Cornelia had returned and the parade of the manikins was resumed.
This spectacle always started Janet on a series of curious reflections. As a result of the training in rhythmics which the girls received at the hands of Harry Kelly, they were free from those grotesque mannerisms of gait, posture, and demeanor which manikins cultivated and which were accepted by the trade as superlative expressions of esthetic correctness. Yet Harry's talent yoked to the service of fashion seemed as wasteful a thing as an artist's genius drafted in the service of futility. It reminded Janet of the story of the Medici prince who compelled Michelangelo to mould a statue out of snow.
But to Mrs. Jerome the Paulette manikins were a sight to see. She made Janet sit on the lounge beside her and coaxed her to give an opinion on every frock subsequently shown. She purchased all those that Janet praised and several that she made fun of.
It was one of the best day's work that the sales department of Paulette's had ever done.
In spite of which, Madame Paulette considered it her duty to take Mrs. Jerome to one side and apologize for Janet and her artless indiscretions.
"She means well, Mrs. Jerome," said Cornelia, deferentially. "She's—well, I might say, she's naive, incredibly naive in matters of social position. It's only lack of training, I assure you."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, she's absolutely ignorant of distinctions of rank. Absolutely. Why, she would talk to a Duchess with no more ceremony than to a scrubwoman."