Arena, uttering little puppy-like barks._

_An Artistic Lady_ (_shuddering_). Look at that creature with a
raw pink body, and a pea-green face--it's too _frightful_, and such
_crude_ yellows! I _wish_ they could be taught to paint themselves
some _decent_ colour!

_Her Sister._ Really, dear, as far as _decency_ is concerned, I don't
exactly see what difference the mere _colour_ would make.

_Her Husband._ That isn't quite what EMILY meant. She'd like to
enamel 'em all in Art shades and drape Liberty scarves round 'em, like
terra-cotta drainpipes or wicker-chairs--eh, EMILY?

_Emily_ (_loftily_). Oh, my dear HENRY, I wasn't speaking to _you_. I
know what a contempt you have for all that makes a home beautiful!

_Henry._ Meaning Indians? My love, I respect them and admire them--at
a distance; but, plain _or_ coloured, I cannot admit that they would
be decorative as furniture--even in _your_ drawing-room!

[_EMILY endures him in silence._

_Orator._ A party of Women of the Ogallalla Tribe!

[Illustration: "I am perfectly aware of _that_, Euphemia!"]

[_Three mounted Indian ladies in blankets--walk their horses
slowly round the Arena, crooning "Aye-eia-ha-ya-hee-hi-ya!"
with every sign of enjoying their own performance._