expressionless while a shrill blonde lady and a nasal dark gentleman
went through what the program ironically called a "comedy sketch,"
followed by a chummy person who came out in evening dress to sing a
sentimental ditty, shed the evening dress to reappear in an ankle-
length fluffy pink affair; shucked the fluffy pink affair for a
child's pinafore, sash, and bare knees; discarded the kiddie frock,
disclosing a bathing-suit; left the bathing-suit behind the wings in
favor of satin knee-breeches and tight jacket--and very discreetly
stopped there, probably for no reason except to give way to the next
act, consisting of two miraculously thin young men in lavender dress
suits and white silk hats, who sang and clogged in unison, like two
things hung on a single wire.

The night air was grateful to her hot forehead as she walked from the
theater to the hotel.

"Trunks in?" to the porter.

"No sign of 'em, lady. They didn't come in on the ten. Think they'd
better wire back to Dayton."

But the next morning Mrs. McChesney was in the depot baggage-room when
Dayton wired back:

_"Trunks not here. Try Columbus, Nebraska."_

"Crash!" said Emma McChesney to the surprised baggage-master. "There
goes my Haviland vegetable-dish."

"Were you selling china?" he inquired.