notoriety-seeking district attorney.

There was just one drawback to the Horse Show, as Montague gathered
from the conversation that went on among the callers: it was public,
and there was no way to prevent undesirable people from taking part.
There were, it appeared, hordes of rich people in New York who were
not in Society, and of whose existence Society was haughtily
unaware; but these people might enter horses and win prizes, and
even rent a box and exhibit their clothes. And they might induce the
reporters to mention them--and of course the ignorant populace did
not know the difference, and stared at them just as hard as at Mrs.
Robbie or Mrs. Winnie. And so for a whole blissful week these people
had all the sensations of being in Society! "It won't be very long
before that will kill the Horse Show," said Mrs. Vivie Patton, with
a snap of her black eyes.

There was Miss Yvette Simpkins, for instance; Society frothed at the
mouth when her name was mentioned. Miss Yvette was the niece of a
stock-broker who was wealthy, and she thought that she was in
Society, and the foolish public thought so, too. Miss Yvette made a
speciality of newspaper publicity; you were always seeing her
picture, with some new "Worth creation," and the picture would be
labelled "Miss Yvette Simpkins, the best-dressed woman in New York,"
or "Miss Yvette Simpkins, who is known as the best woman whip in
Society." It was said that Miss Yvette, who was short and stout, and
had a rosy German face, had paid five thousand dollars at one clip
for photographs of herself in a new wardrobe; and her pictures were
sent to the newspapers in bundles of a dozen at a time. Miss Yvette
possessed over a million dollars' worth of diamonds--the finest in
the country, according to the newspapers; she had spent a hundred