[Holds up the goods.
Ethel. How sweet!
Maud. Isn't it?
Ethel. Do you really think she would like green?
Maud. I don't know; she is so particular, you know.
Ethel. Yes, I know. Didn't she— It seems to me she said something or other about brown—didn't she?
Maud. Why, yes, to be sure, I believe she did.
Newcome (casting the greens into a reckless oblivion). Brown? We have a selection in all the browns that is not to be found elsewhere, I am confident. (Struggles with great pile of browns; grows warm with effort; pauses to mop his brow with handkerchief; finally brings down huge number of browns and lands them on counter). Our—assortment—of—browns—is (heaves a deep sigh), I may say, unequalled.
Ethel. What a sweet shade that is!
Maud. Isn't it?