“Not sure,” I stotter. “It seems to resemble the biceps of your hosiery.”
“That biceps is situated where it usually is,” she otter clamly like an ice box.
“Should it be ashamed?” I ask shockly.
“It are style,” she decry, “and style are never ashamed. Togo, why should you stand there gasping like Queen Victoria seeing Paris? This garments I are wearing are called a gashed skirt and is now very favorite at Newport, and Jewport, on Fifth & Sixth Avenues. Queen Mary of London wore one (very slightly) while giving Ice Cream Social to Knights of the Garter. In Paris it were even more so, as usual. Two French countesses from Minneapolis appeared tired out in this costume at Long Chumps race-course and everybody was so asphyxiated by charm they forgot to lose their money.”
“Horses must feel very slow when racing against such style,” I report nervely. “I am alarmed to think to where fashions will jump to nextly.”
“More will soonly explode from Vienna where a gentleman-dressmake have invented a dress all of glass,” she narrate with smiling eyebrows. “It will be worn in beautiful green shades.”
“Green shades are necessary to pull down sometimes when you are living in glass clothing,” I say so for Elbert Hubbard smartness.
Miss Furaoki make no intellectual reply, so we arrive inside emotion-picture show to see that noiseless opera. I think I shall marry her sooner than ever.
Mr. Editor, Hon. Anthony Comestop and other celebrated purities is continuously complaining because female ladies is becoming too much seen in public places. Women is becoming too brave and their skirts too shrinking. Hon. Comestop, who are not so strong as he were before he took up modesty as a business, fainted 2½ times when he seen photos of Lady Bluff-Gorgon’s latest style-simpony entitled “Spring Twilight” and he have ordered entire U. S. Army to encamp at Custom House to stop it when she send over Fall-style walking-suit called “September Morn.”
Considerable ministers, judges and boss policemen has been talking like angry uncles to ladies because of the increasing decrease of their clothing. I read in news-print last week how Hon. Judge Killjoy of Salem, Mass., wish to burn all witches under 27 years of age for bewitching gentlemen by the clothes they don’t wear. Last week he order Hon. Police to grabb all ladies wearing dangerous skirts, but Hon. Police were too lazy to arrest entire female population, so he brought Village Belle into court, because she looked most so.