The Lady Money-taker (blandly). If you will let me know your friend's name——?
Mrs. W. D. (splendide mendax). She's assisting the dear Duchess. Now, perhaps, you will allow me to pass!
The L. M. Afraid I can't, really. But if you mean Lady Honor Hyndlegges—she is the only lady at the Duchess's stall—I could send in for her. Or of course, if you like to pay half-a-crown——
Mrs. W. D. (hastily). Thank you, I—I won't disturb her ladyship. I had no idea there was any charge for admission, and—(bristling)—allow me to say I consider such regulations most absurd.
The L. M. (sweetly, with a half glance at the bowl of coins on the table). Quite too ridiculous, ain't they? Good afternoon!
Mrs. W. D. (audibly, as she flounces out). If they suppose I'm going to pay half-a-crown for the privilege of being fleeced——!
Footman (on steps, sotto voce, to confrère). "Fleeced"! that's a good 'un, eh? She ain't brought much wool in with her!
His Confrère. On'y what's stuffed inside of her ear.
[They resume their former impassive dignity.
In the Venetian Gallery—where the Bazaar is being held.