Ritter. She probably knows where it is.
Mrs. R. [Coming forward carrying her sewing-basket] Well, anyway, that’s how I happened to get into it. [She sits on the chair at the left of the small table below the piano.] Mrs. Pampinelli called me up the first thing in the morning, and she said—
Ritter. Is she in it, too?
Mrs. R. [Looking up from the arrangement of a couple of strips of lace which she has taken from the sewing-basket] Who? Mrs. Pampinelli?
Ritter. Yes.
Mrs. R. No, she doesn’t take any part; she’s just in charge of everything.
Ritter. That suits her better.
Mrs. R. Kind of directress, I suppose you’d call her. [He has some difficulty keeping his face straight.] Tells us where to go, you know, on the stage,—so we won’t be running into each other. [Ritter laughs.] Really, Fred, you have no idea how easy it is to run into somebody on the stage. You’ve got to know where you’re going every time you move. [He laughs louder.] Why, what are you laughing at?
Ritter. I was just thinking of a few of the things I’ve heard Mrs. Pampinelli called.
Mrs. R. [Looking over at him reproachfully] Oh—now, that isn’t a bit nice of you, Fred Ritter. I know you don’t like her.