FREDDY & CIE
Court Milliners,
11, Condover Street, W.
“Freddy and Company!” murmured the stricken parent, as she perused the announcement.
“Mrs. V. is company,” observed the son, with a spice of vulgarity; “and uncommonly good company, too. As for myself, my talents have at last found scope, and millinery is my métier. How often haven’t you said that no one has such exquisite taste in the arrangement of flowers——”
“As you, Freddy! It is true! But——”
“Haven’t you declared, over and over again, that you have never had a maid who could put on a mantle, adjust a fold of lace, or pin on a toque as skillfully as your own son?”
“My boy, I own it. Still, millinery as a profession? Can you call it quite manly for a man?”
“To spend one’s life in arranging combinations to set off other women’s complexions. Can you call that womanly for a woman? To my mind,” pursued Freddy, “it is the only occupation for a man of real refinement. To crown Beauty with beauty! To dream exquisite confections, which shall add the one touch wanting to exquisite youth or magnificent middle-age! To build up with deft touches a creation which shall betray in every detail, in every effect, the hand of a genius united to the soul of a lover, and reap not only gold, but glory! Would this not be Fame?”
“Ah! I no longer recognize you. You do not talk like your dear old self!” cried the Marchioness.