LITMIR.BIZ

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Yes, of course.

      Maud. Does the gaslight change the shade much?

      Newcome. Just a trifle, madam; it makes it richer.

      Maud. Darker?

      Newcome. Just a half a tone.

      Ethel. Then that must be considered. Oh, dear!

      [Sighs plaintively.

      Maud. Why not look at it by gaslight, love?

      Ethel. Oh, I hate to give so much trouble!

      Newcome. No trouble in the world, madam – a pleasure. I will gladly show you these goods by gaslight, for I am confident you will only admire them the more. Here, boy (calls boy, and hands him a pile of goods), take these to the gaslight-room. This way ladies, please. (They cross the aisle and enter the gaslight-room, preceded by the boy, who sets down the goods and retires.) There! look at that! Isn't that a rich, warm, beautiful color!

      [Displays clarets.

      Maud. Lovely!

      Ethel. Yes, lovely – but (dubiously) I am so afraid she won't like it.

      Maud. It is very perplexing.

      Ethel. Yes. Oh, how sweet those browns do look in this light! Don't they?

      Newcome. Ah, I just brought over the browns, madam, for I thought you might care to see them too.

      [Displays browns.

      Maud. How they do light up! Don't they?

      Newcome. Newest tints, every one of them. Not been in stock over a few weeks, and those browns have sold like wildfire.

      Ethel. For my own part I always did like brown.

      Maud. Yes, so do I.

      Ethel. It's so ladylike.

      Maud. Yes, and it's a color that is suitable to almost any occasion.

      Ethel. Yes. Now that lightest piece would be just too sweet, wouldn't it, made up with that new Persian trimming?

      Maud. Exquisite! Say, do you know I priced some of that trimming the other day.

      Ethel. Did you? how much?

      Maud. Awfully expensive! Five dollars a yard.

      Ethel. How wide?

      Maud. Oh, not more than four inches.

      Ethel. It wouldn't take much, would it?

      Maud. That depends on where you put it.

      Ethel. Well, just on the bodice and sleeves and collar.

      Maud. About two yards and a half.

      Ethel. Fifteen dollars?

      Maud. Yes.

      Newcome. This brown trimmed in the manner you mention, ladies, would be very elegant.

      Maud. Yes, so it would. I wish now that I had looked more particularly at the browns out by the daylight.

      Newcome. It is easy to look at them again, madam, I am sure. Here, boy, carry these goods back to the counter where you got them. (Boy crosses, laden with goods; Newcome and ladies follow.) That's it. (Boy retires.) Now, madam, just look at that shade by this light. Isn't that perfect?

      Ethel. Yes, it's lovely, but —

      Maud. Did she say she wished a brown especially, dear?

      Ethel. No, she left it to me entirely.

      Maud. How trying!

      Ethel. Yes. I – I really, you know. I don't dare to take the responsibility; would you?

      [Newcome's arms falter slightly in upholding the goods.

      Maud. Frankly, my love, I think shopping for anyone else is something dreadful.

      Ethel. It is so trying and so embarrassing. I don't dare really to get either (Newcome's arms fall helpless; he sighs) one of them.

      Maud. They are lovely, though; aren't they?

      Ethel. Yes, if (Newcome revives a little) I thought she would really be satisfied.

      [He essays once again to hold up the browns.

      Maud. But, dear, they never are.

      [His arms again droop.

      Ethel. No, never. No matter how much trouble you take, or what pains you are (he sighs feebly) at (he totters), they are so ungrateful.

      Maud. Yes, always.

      Ethel. Well, I believe we can't venture to decide this morning (he staggers) about the shade. We will very likely return to-morrow.

      [He raises a weakly deprecating hand.

      Maud (aside, as the two ladies are going). Well, we got off quite nicely.

      Ethel. Yes, didn't we! I wouldn't be seen in either of those horrid things; would you?

      Maud. No.

      [Newcome falls to the earth with a groan of despair; the Chorus rush forward and gently raise him in their arms. As they bear him off, they sing, in a doleful and yet half-malicious fashion:

      Chorus.

      Poor Newcome!

      You are not the first man they have ended,

      And left on the cold ground extended;

      Or to whom they have sweetly pretended,

      On whose taste they have weakly depended; —

      Whom they've left on the cold ground extended,

      Minus money they never expended,

      On goods that they never intended

      To buy,

      Heigh-o, heigh,

      O – O – !

      [They retreat, C., as the ladies exeunt, R., L. Music pianissimo as curtain falls.

Fannie Aymar Mathews.

      IRISH NORAH TO ENGLISH JOHN

(Her theory of Home Rule under the Union.)

      "It manes, and shure and where's the harm?"

      Said Nora to her spouse;

      "It manes: if you must mind yer farm,

      That I shall mind me house."

       BELLA'S BUREAU. 4

      A STORY IN THREE SCARES

      SCARE THE FIRST

      I almost flung myself into Dick Vandeleur's arms when he entered my library that evening.

      "Can you imagine why I sent for you in such a deuce of a hurry?" I blurted out, embracing him effusively in my pleasure at seeing him.

      "Well, I did think there might have been a woman in the case," he drawled, in his deliberate way, stopping to adjust his neck-tie, which had worked its way over his ear during the struggle. "But then, as I happened to have acted as your best man only two months ago, when you married the most charming of women, why, b'Jove, I – "

      "Well, it is a woman," I groaned, cutting his speech short.

      "The devil!"

      "Yes, and the very worst kind, I fancy, if thoroughly aroused."

      "But, my deah boy, with such a wife it's – it's – it's – "

      "Yes, it's all that and a good deal more," I growled, gloomily. "Don't add to my misery with your ill-timed reproaches. Richard, a back number of my unsavory career has turned up to deprive me of my appetite and blight my being. You remember Bella Bracebridge, of the nimble toes, at whose shrine I worshipped so long and so idiotically? Well, I received a letter from her only yesterday."

      "No!"

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