"What noble dame is that?"
Macfarren felt a certain malicious pleasure as he answered, sotto voce:
"That is Mrs. Dietrick Van Tromp, the lady who I suggested should attend you to the table."
Marian's countenance changed to one of angry and amazed disgust.
"If mercers' wives dress thus, how can they be told from queens and princesses?" she inquired, haughtily.
"They can't," responded Macfarren, "except that queens and princesses are usually much less toploftical."
"But," demanded Marian, "are there not sumptuary laws that forbid the daughters of tradesmen and merchants from wearing stuffs reserved for the nobility and gentry?"
"There has been a very strong effort to pass sumptuary laws in Ohio and Georgia and Maine and Kansas, but they have generally proved inoperative," answered Macfarren. Seeing, however, his companion's puzzled look, he hastened forward and said, "Ah! there is the elevator."
Mrs. Van Tromp had preceded them, and stood by the door. As Marian and Macfarren approached, the former gave her a look of unmistakable disdain, which, to Macfarren's horror, was supplemented by a command given in a clear and self-possessed voice:
"Give place, madam."