(Madam sits in brown study, tapping her forehead.)
Madam Let me see; Wednesday morning. (looks at watch). Ten o'clock. It might be done. Practically two days. (sits staring at wall). No, it couldn't! We might use chiffon.
Mrs. De S. Maude hates chiffon.
Madam (with professional coldness). Chiffon is a very artistic trimming.
Mrs. De S. (wearily). It may be–it may be, but you know Maude.
(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer.)
Miss H. (looks around; sniffs at the untidiness). Jennie, you look ready to faint!
Mrs. De S. Sit down. Don't stand there like–a–wooden Indian!
Miss H. They don't keel over every few minutes, anyhow! (sits with a thud). You look ready to faint!
Mrs. De S. I feel ready to faint; the lace has given out.