she could not go with them that afternoon as she must attend a
musicale some friends of her mother's were giving. Being friends of
her mother's, she expatiated, she would have to go.

Recollecting this, also for the first time remembering the musicale,
she bowed with the _hauteur_ of self-consciousness.

Right there her friend contributed to the tragedy of a sheep's death
by dropping the yellow opera cloak. While he was stooping to pick it
up the violet velvet gown slid backward and Virginia had to steady
it until he could regain position. The staring in the corner gave
way to tittering--and no dying sheep had ever held its head more
haughtily.

The death of this particular sheep proved long and painful. The legs
of Virginia's friend and the legs of the tea-table did not seem well
adapted to each other. He towered like a human mountain over the
dainty thing, twisting now this way and now that. It seemed
Providence--or at least so much of it as was represented by the
management of that shop--had never meant fat people to drink tea.
The table was rendered further out of proportion by having a large
box piled on either side of it.

Expansively, and not softly, he discoursed of these things. What did
they think a fellow was to do with his _knees_? Didn't they
sell tea enough to afford any decent chairs? Did all these women
pretend to really _like_ tea?

Virginia's sense of humour rallied somewhat as she viewed him eating
the sandwiches. Once she had called them doll-baby sandwiches; now