CINDERELLA (_wandering over her client with a tape_). 35—14. (_She consults a paper on the table._) Yes, it’s 35—14. (_She pulls him out, contracts him and takes his elbows measure._) 28—7; 41—12; 15—19. (_There is something wrong, and she has to justify her handiwork._) You was longer when you came on Monday. GENTLEMAN (_very moved by the importance of the occasion_). Don’t be saying that, Missy. CINDERELLA (_pinning up the tails of his coat_). Keep still. GENTLEMAN (_with unexpected spirit_). I warns you, Missy, I won’t have it cut. CINDERELLA (_an artist_). I’ll give you the bits. GENTLEMAN. I prefers to wear them. (_She compares the coat with the picture of an elegant dummy._) Were you going to make me like that picture? CINDERELLA. I had just set my heart on copying this one. It’s the Volupty. GENTLEMAN (_faint-hearted_). I’m thinkin’ I couldn’t stand like that man. CINDERELLA (_eagerly_). Fine you could—with just a little practice. I’ll let you see the effect. (_She bends one of his knees, extends an arm and curves the other till he looks like a graceful teapot. She puts his stick in one hand and his hat in the other, and he is now coquettishly saluting a lady._) GENTLEMAN (_carried away as he looks at himself in a glass_). By Gosh! Cut away, Missy! CINDERELLA. I’ll need one more try-on. (_Suddenly._) That’s to say if I’m here. GENTLEMAN (_little understanding the poignancy of the remark_). If it would be convenient to you to have the penny now— CINDERELLA. No, not till I’ve earned it. It’s my rule. Good night to you, Mr. Jennings. GENTLEMAN. Good night, Missy. (_We see him go out by the door and disappear up the street._) CINDERELLA (_sharply_). Next. (_An old woman comes to the table and_ CINDERELLA _politely pretends not to have seen her sitting there_.) It’s Mrs. Maloney! MRS. M. Cinders, I have a pain. It’s like a jag of a needle down my side. CINDERELLA (_with a sinking, for she is secretly afraid of medical cases_). Wait till I pop the therm-mo-mometer in. It’s a real one. (_She says this with legitimate pride. She removes the instrument from_ MRS. MALONEY’S _mouth after a prudent interval, and is not certain what to do next._) Take a deep breath.... Again.... Say 99. (_Her ear is against the patient’s chest._) MRS. M. 99. CINDERELLA (_at a venture_). Oho! MRS. M. It ain’t there the pain is—it’s down my side. CINDERELLA (_firmly_). We never say 99 down there. MRS. M. What’s wrong wi’ me? CINDERELLA (_candidly_). I don’t want for to pretend, Mrs. Maloney, that the 99 is any guidance to me. I can _not_ find out what it’s for. I would make so bold as to call your complaint muscular rheumatics if the pain came when you coughed. But you have no cough. MRS. M. (_coming to close quarters_). No, but he has—my old man. It’s him that has the pains, not me. CINDERELLA (_hurt_). What for did you pretend it was you?