Em’ly.—Perhaps we can remedy the defect if it is but trifling; it is yet early in the day.
Mercy (Places bundle on table).—Why yes; I will open it (Begins to untie bundle).
Mrs. Felton.—That’s it; how stupid we are.
Miss Philp.—Don’t include me; I am not willing to be classified with dolts.
Em’ly.—Oh, dear, no!
Mrs. Felton.—I meant no offense.
Mercy (Takes dress from paper).—Look at it, Mrs. Felton.
Miss Philp.—Silence! Stop talking all together like quacking ducks; your din will drive me distracted. Have you no refinement, no breeding? How I dislike to mingle with vulgar persons. Young woman, ah, that is, Em’ly, hold up that dress.
Em’ly (Takes up dress).—Yes, miss.
Miss Philp.—Just try it on, so that I may show your mother her stupid work.