Miss de M. (with effusion). Ah, then I can feel for you—so do I! At least, I used to before I tried—(To herself.) Where is that pair of thick woollen driving-gloves? Ah, I know. (Aloud.)—these. I've found them such a comfort!
The E. L. (suspiciously). They have rather a queer—— And then they're divided at the ends, too.
Miss de M. Oh, haven't you seen those before? Doctors consider them so much healthier, don't you know.
The E. L. I daresay they are, my dear. But aren't the—(with delicate embarrassment)—the separated parts rather long?
Miss de M. Do you think so? They allow so much more freedom, you see; and then, of course they'll shrink.
The E. L. That's true, my dear. Well, I'll take a pair, as you recommend them so strongly.
Miss de M. I'm quite sure you'll never regret it! (To herself, as the E. L. retires, charmed.) I'd give anything to see the poor old thing trying to put them on!
Miss Mimosa Tendrill (to herself). I do so hate hawking this horrid old thing about! (Forlornly, to Mrs. Allbutt-Innett.) I—I beg your pardon; but will you give me ten and sixpence for this lovely work-basket?
Mrs. Allbutt-Innett. My good girl, let me tell you I've been pestered to buy that identical basket at every bazaar I've set foot in for the last twelvemonth, and how you can have the face to ask ten and six for it—you must think I've more money than wit!