WOMAN GUEST (_to another_)--Isn't that just the way?--their relatives
are always dying, and it's sure to be wash-day or just when you expect
company to dinner, and off they go to the funeral--

(Butler _appears with trayful of punch-glasses._)

MALE GUEST (_to another_)--Thank the Lord! here's relief in sight. Let's
drown our troubles.

THE OTHER--It's evident you haven't sampled the Smythes' punch before. I
tell you it's a crime to spoil a thirst with this stuff. Well, here's
how.

WOMAN GUEST (_to neighbor_)--I never saw Mrs. Smythe looking quite so
hideous and atrociously vulgar before, did you?

NEIGHBOR--Never! Why did we come?

VOICE (_overheard_)--The one in the white-lace gown and all those
diamonds?

ANOTHER VOICE--Yes. Well, you know it was common talk that before he
married her--

HOSTESS--'Sh, 'sh, 'sh! Signor Padrella has offered to play some of his
own compositions, but I thought you would all rather hear something
familiar by one of the real composers--Rubens or Chopin--Chopinhauer, I
think--

(Pianist _plunges wildly into something._)