Aunt Dressie stared at her. "What use are you?" she said.

Warble's brain stopped beating.

Bump.

* * * * *

What use was she--she, the utilitarian, the efficient, the practical! What
use? Grrrhhh!

She'd show 'em! The silly bunch! Not one of them could put together the
dissected beef picture in the cook-book if the cuts were separated!

"I don't care! I won't endure it!

"What's Aunt Dressie anyhow? A military blonde, with glazed chintz undies!
What's Marigold Leathersham? A smart party who wears a hat!

"What's Iva Payne? Nothing but a backbone--a shad! She's about the shape of
a single rose vase! Damn her! Damn Lotta Munn and Daisy Snow, yes and May
Young! They think they can charm my Bill off his perch with their revolting
artistic propaganda, and their schools and non-schools and neo-schools!
Rubbish!"

* * * * *

And when they came--came and talked wise and technical jargon about
being endlessly enveloped in a toneless sound, about being drowned in an