Mad. P. My dear, there isn’t the slightest pain or danger. Go on, Susan. (Aside to Susan.) You’ve been talking again. Why can’t you keep your customers quiet like mine. (Scream from Miss T. who runs in, one side of face in great red blotches.)
Miss T. Madame Princeton, you will kill me! Oh, how my face smarts!
Mad. P. It can’t hurt much.
Miss T. It’s on fire! Oh, oh!
Mad. P. Only a temporary twinge, Miss Terwilliger. (Gets between Dickie’s chair and Miss T., turns latter away, nods to Susan who busies herself with Dickie.) To-day I will apply my great discovery, Pastilla di Pasta and to-morrow you will have the complexion of a baby. (Rushes Miss T. out L., shuts door.) Some people make a great fuss about nothing.
Enter Mrs. C., with played-out look, D. F.
Mrs. C. Madame Princeton, haven’t I exercised enough to-day?
Mad. P. (Severely.) Not half enough!
Mrs. C. (Puffing.) Well, I shall die, that’s what I’ll do!
Mad. P. (Impatiently.) I wouldn’t if I were you, Mrs. Compton.