Ethel. What a sweet shade that is!
Maud. Isn't it?
Ethel. Are these the same price as the others?
[Fingers the browns.
Newcome. Exactly the same, madam; one dollar and fifty cents a yard, reduced from two and a half; all-wool.
Maud. Are you sure they are all-wool? This piece feels rather harsh to me.
Newcome. Every thread, madam; that I will guarantee. We are not allowed to misrepresent anything in this establishment. You can see for yourself.
[Recklessly frays out a few inches of the brown.
Ethel (also fingering goods). Yes, they are all-wool; French, did you say?
Newcome. Every piece imported. We keep no domestic woollen goods whatever. We have no call for anything but the foreign goods.
Maud. How wide did you say?
Newcome. Double width, madam – forty-four inches.
Ethel. Five, seven – let me see, it would take about – how much do you usually sell for a costume?
Newcome (with hilarity, holding up the browns). From eight to ten yards, madam, according to the size of the lady. For your size I should say eight yards was an abundance – a great abundance.
Ethel. She is just about my size, isn't she, Maud?
Maud. Just about. It wouldn't take eight yards, I shouldn't think, of such wide goods made in Empire style.
Ethel. No, I suppose not; but then it's always nice to have a piece left over for new sleeves, you know.
Maud. Yes, that's so.
Newcome. An elegant shade, ladies, becoming to anyone, fair or dark. I am sure any lady must be pleased with a dress off of one of these – serviceable, stylish, the height of fashion.
Ethel. Is brown really so fashionable this season?
Newcome. I am sure we have sold a thousand yards of these browns to ten of any other color.
Maud. Is that so?
Ethel. I do wonder if she really would prefer brown. What do you think, dear?
Maud. Well, it depends somewhat, I think, on how she is going to have it made.
Ethel. True. Well, I think she said in directoire.
Maud. Plain full skirt?
Ethel. Yes, smocked all around – no drapery at all.
Maud. Candidly, love, do you like a skirt without any drapery at all?
Ethel. Well, no, I can't say I do. Do you?
Maud. No. I like a little right in the back, you know – not too much. But I think a little takes off that dreadfully plain look. Don't you?
Ethel. Yes.
Maud. How are y – I mean how is she going to have the waist?
Ethel. I don't know. I heard her say that she was going to have a puff on the sleeve.
Maud. At the elbow?
Ethel. No, at the shoulder.
Maud. And revers, I suppose.
Ethel. Yes, those stylish broad ones.
Maud. Of velvet?
Ethel. Velvet or plush.
Newcome (who has been manfully holding the browns up above his head, permits them to gently descend). We have a full line in plushes and velvets, ladies, to match all these shades.
Maud. How nice!
Ethel. So convenient!
Newcome (mildly). Do you think you'll decide on the brown, madam?
Ethel. Oh, dear! I don't know. It is so hard to shop for some one else!
Maud. It is horrid.
Ethel. I vow every time I do it that it shall be the last. I am always so afraid of getting something that the person won't like.
[Sighs.
Newcome. Any lady must like this brown, madam. Just feel the texture of this piece of goods, and take the trouble to examine the quality. Why, I have never in all my experience sold a piece of goods of such a class at a cent less than two dollars a yard – never.
Maud. It is very fine.
Ethel (vaguely eying the goods behind the counter on the shelves). Is that a piece of claret-colored that I see up there?
Newcome (lays down the browns with a faint sigh of reluctance). Yes, oh, yes.
Ethel. Never mind to get it down.
Newcome. No trouble in the world to show anything; that's what I am here for. (Sighs as he attains the clarets and fetches them to the counter.) Rich shades; ten tints in these also, calculated to suit any taste.
Maud. I always did like claret.
Ethel. Yes, it is so becoming.
Maud. It has such a warm look, too!
Ethel. Now, that – no, this one – no, please, that darker piece – yes. Maud, dear, that made up with plush and garnet buttons and buckles – Oh, did I tell you I saw some such lovely garnet trimmings at Blank's last week, only seventy-five cents a yard, just a perfect match for this. Wouldn't it be too lovely for anything?
Maud. Indeed it would. I am almost tempted myself. Claret is my color, you know.
Newcome. A splendid shade, madam, and only just two dress lengths left.
Ethel. Is this the same goods as the others?
Newcome. The very same; all-wool imported suitings, forty-four inches wide, reduced from two-fifty a yard to only one dollar and a half.
Maud. Wouldn't that be just perfect with that white muff and boa of mine, dearest?
Ethel. Too startling, love. Do you know, I think you made a mistake in getting that white set.
Maud. Why?
Ethel. Too striking.
Maud. Do you think so?
Ethel. Yes. Of course it's lovely for the theatre and opera.
Maud. It's awfully becoming.
Ethel (to Newcome). Now, do you really sell as much claret color as you do green or brown this season?
Newcome. Oh yes, madam; if anything, more. You see claret is one of the standards, becoming alike to young and old. Why, a child might wear this shade. Claret will always hold its own; there is a change in the blues and the greens and the browns, but the claret is always elegant, and very stylish.
Maud. I think so too.
Ethel (meditatively). I do wonder if she would like claret better than brown.
Newcome. I can show you the browns again, ladies.
Ethel. Oh, never mind.
Newcome. No trouble in the world. (Holds up browns and clarets both.) Now you can judge of the two by contrast.
Maud. Both lovely.
Ethel. Which do you like best, love?
Maud. My dear, I don't know.
Newcome. You can't go amiss, madam, with either of those, I am sure. Any lady must like either of them.
Ethel. Oh, dear! I wish people would get well and do their own shopping; it is so trying!
Maud. Horrid!
Newcome. An elegant piece of goods, madam; will wear like iron.
Ethel. What would you do, dear?
Maud. I really don't know what to say. When does she want to wear it?
Ethel. Dinner and theatre.
Maud.