"What is spats?" asked Phyllis.
"Spats," I answered, "are what people wear when they want to get a job and their boots are shabby."
"Are diplomatists shabby?" queried Lillah.
"Not a bit," I answered rather bitterly.
"Do they want jobs?"
"They want to keep them," I said.
"So they have spats," said Phyllis, completely satisfied.
"Exactly," I said. "Then they go into an extremely grand room together and talk."
"What about?" said Lillah.
"Oh, anything that turns up," I answered—"the rise in prices or the late thaw; or if everything fails they simply make personal remarks."