There were side shows, café chantants, everything to take money from the public.
"For the tiny crippled children. Help them." Children selling flowers and sweets, dressed all in pale pink, crowned with rosebuds, carried little cards on their heads, with these words printed.
"Let us be nothing if not sentimental," said Dollie, looking round the hall. Dull green gave background to the flower dresses; dull green on stalls and against the walls. Royalty had promised to be present. It was a great affair.
"It will buy tweeds," said Dollie. "It always does. And baskets, and sweets for the hospitals. And it—the male part of it—won't be allowed any of the photographs it wants from the stage stall."
A great bazaar, which a minor Royalty graciously declared open, and then remembered an engagement; its royal purse was sparsely supplied.
All Society seemed to be assisting, but Suburbia flocked to it, and in the evening Shopland would render gallant support.
"For the tiny crippled children; see the lovely dears," said Mrs Harris to Mrs Smith of Clapham. "What's your name, little love, now?"
"Pollie Laverdean," a small mite of eight raised dark liquid eyes. "Buy somefin', p'ease."
"Lady Marrianne," whispered a better-informed friend. "The Countess of Gardenia's eldest—ain't she sweet?"
"An' to call her plain Pollie. My! my!" murmured the friend.