The Sweet Girl Graduates

Excerpt

ACT I.

(Sitting-room of the DeSmythe home; "confusion worse confounded;" everything topsy-turvy. Mrs. DeSmythe on couch; Madam Sateene and she looking over lace samples, of which they have a great number. Madam in "swell" street costume.)

Mrs. De S. (tossing samples in a heap). There's positively nothing like it! Nothing anywhere near it!

Madam No, and nothing that can be used.

Mrs. De S. (snatching a bit of lace from the heap). There! That's a lover's knot pattern. Why, it–

Madam No, that's a sailor's knot. There is a great difference.

Mrs. De S. (vaguely). I don't see it.

Madam (patiently). You see the loop in this bends down and in this, it bends–goes up. Every difference in the world, my dear Mrs. De Smythe.

Mrs. De S. (meekly, but convinced). Wouldn't it do? All bunched up?

Madam But it is not to be bunched up!

Mrs. De S. (with a profound sigh). What can we do? And I threatened with an attack!

Madam I don't know! (rises, sits down, then groans). I am at my wit's end. Let me think.

Mrs. De S. (with an inspiration). Take the lace off!

Madam (crushingly). My dear Mrs. De Smythe, the gown is modelled for lace.

Mrs. De S. (helplessly). Oh!

(Madam sits in brown study, tapping her forehead.)

Madam Let me see; Wednesday morning. (looks at watch). Ten o'clock. It might be done. Practically two days. (sits staring at wall). No, it couldn't! We might use chiffon.

Mrs. De S. Maude hates chiffon.

Madam (with professional coldness). Chiffon is a very artistic trimming.

Mrs. De S. (wearily). It may be–it may be, but you know Maude.

(Enter Miss Hoppenhoer.)

Miss H. (looks around; sniffs at the untidiness). Jennie, you look ready to faint!

Mrs. De S. Sit down. Don't stand there like–a–wooden Indian!

Miss H. They don't keel over every few minutes, anyhow! (sits with a thud). You look ready to faint!

Mrs. De S. I feel ready to faint; the lace has given out.

Miss H. (picking up things). The lace–?

Mrs. De S. (with infinite patience). The lace, you know, for Maude's dress.

Miss H. (blankly). Eh–what dress?

Madam (in polite surprise). Why, Miss Hoppenhoer, what dress?

Mrs. De S. (shrilly). What dress,–oh, Matilda!

Miss H. (commencing to "straighten" room in earnest). Oh, is that all? I thought the President had been assassinated!

Mrs. De S. Matilda! I must say you don't seem much interested. I should think you would,–your own niece, too!

Miss H. (tragically). Look at this room,–look at this room! It is a disgrace to a Christian community! Think of the breakfast we had–or rather, that we didn't have! And yesterday! And now you down sick–down sick! Does it take a month to graduate? (dusts an upholstered chair vigorously). It's such (bang) such non-(bang) nonsense!

Mrs. De S. Nonsense to graduate! Matilda Hoppenhoer! Do stop thrashing about! Ugh, that dust! (coughs weakly). Katherine will do that.

Miss H. (pounding sofa cushions). Katherine is busy; she has ten miles of flutin' to flute!

Mrs. De S. (coughing). Well, stop, anyway! My nerves are bad today.

Miss H. You are worn out. We're all as cross as bears!

Madam (emerging from a brown study). What shall I do? And only a yard needed! I think chiffon–

Miss H. (straightening out a rug). Use ribbon.

Madam (with dignity). They used ribbon last year.

Miss H. Fringe, then,–fringe is very dressy.

Madam They used fringe two years ago.

Miss H. (snapping her up). Well, what's the idea? To use something that hasn't never been used?

(Maude comes in, breathless.)

Maude (sitting down hard). Goodness, I'm tired! Auntie, your grammar is bad–very bad. What are you doing?

Miss H. (sarcastically). Getting you ready to graduate.

Maude (peeling off her gloves). Well sir, I've just been racing around! O, Valeria's going to have chiffon.

Madam (dramatically). Chiffon!

Maude (tossing her hat on the floor). Yes, and it's awfully pretty.

Madam Chiffon! Is she? (Sits, from sheer weakness.)

Maude (beginning to undo sundry packages). Yes, and–why, what's the matter?

Madam (gasping). Chiffon!

Maude (a light dawning). Am I? Am I?

Miss H. (winding yarn into a ball). Am you what? Sit down, child, sit down, you look like a statute!

Maude Am I to have chiffon?

Mrs. De S. (firmly). You are.

Maude We can't both have chiffon! I won't be a copy-tale! I won't!

Mrs. De S. (sitting erect and speaking with authority). Listen, dearie. The lace has given out.

Maude (stamping her foot)....