Minnie. Impossible? Why?
Aunt. Well, dear, you know that horrid Louise hasn’t sent home my dress.
Minnie. Nonsense, Aunt Martha. You’ve lots of dresses.
Aunt. Not one fit to be seen. You know that perfectly well.
Minnie. There’s your plum-colored silk——
Aunt. My dear child. I wore that all last winter.
Minnie. Only about three times. Then there’s your yellow satin.
Aunt. You know I look a perfect fright in that. Yellow doesn’t suit me.
Minnie. Nothing suits you to-night. I declare you are as bad as Horace! I suppose I shall have to give up the dance. It is a shame!
Aunt. My dear, I would have gone with pleasure if that odious Louise hadn’t disappointed me. But you wouldn’t have me make an exhibition of myself. One must have some pride.