BELLA. Goodness, they won't be to-morrow with all they're going to print about this ball! Say, I've a friend whose sister's a literary lady and writes for the Sunday papers in Buffalo. She's got an article in my line, called the "Heads of the Smart Set which was Set at the Grand Duke." Ain't that a cute name for an article? And it don't mean their heads either; it means their coffyures, as she says--she speaks French. She was born and raised in Niagara Falls, near to Canada, where the language comes natural,--over the water, as it were! STEVEN. [_Going to her._] I wouldn't mention this newspaper report to Miss Carley--it would only needlessly alarm her, perhaps, and spoil her evening. BELLA. Oh, I wouldn't for worlds. [_She moves to the dressing table as_ GEORGIANA _comes in._ GEORGIANA. Here I am'. Oh, my dear Steve! You'll be late. You're not dressed yet. STEVEN. All right. I'm going now--I was entertaining Miss Shindle till you were ready. [_With, a bow to_ MISS SHINDLE, STEVEN _goes out Right._ BELLA. [_Taking her bottles, etc., from a little bag which she carries._] He _is_ a _perfect_ gentleman! GEORGIANA. [_Sitting before the dressing table._] Now come along, Bella! I only want you to brush my hair; I've had a trying evening here, and I've a splitting headache. See if you can take it away and make me look as if I'd never had one. BELLA. [_Tying apron about_ GEORGIANA'S _neck._] I'll do my best; but I can tell you most of the ladies I know'd be willing to have a headache every blessed minute of their lives if they could look as you do now! GEORGIANA. Oh, what blarney, Bella! I don't know, somehow I want to be beautiful to-night. BELLA. For the Dook? [_Beginning to brush her hair._ GEORGIANA. No! BELLA. For him? [_Pointing at_ COLEMAN'S _photograph with her hair-brush._ GEORGIANA. Yes. [_Drawing the picture toward her._] It was a dear letter I had from him to-night, Bella! I hope you'll have as nice a one from Mr. Gootch to-morrow morning. BELLA. Well, if I don't-- [_Shutting her teeth, she unconsciously pulls_ GEORGIANA'S _hair._ GEORGIANA. Oh, oh! BELLA. Oh, I beg your pardon! GEORGIANA. Don't take it out on me, wait till Mr. Gootch gets back! BELLA. [_Combing._] I don't know as you're the jealous kind. Judging from your hair you ain't. It usually goes with blonde or red, or else crimpy, and what I dislike about red hair is the freckles--you can almost count on 'em! You've got sort of trusting hair. But besides, Mr. Coleman wasn't a floor walker in a shop with over a hundred lady clerks--I think that's apt to make a gentleman flightier; and he being _bald_, has me to a disadvantage, so to speak. I can't judge by my customary signs. GEORGIANA. [_Looking at_ COLEMAN'S _photograph._] Bella, I should say Lieutenant Coleman has splendid, straight, honest hair, shouldn't you? BELLA. I can't say as I've ever really had any experience of his hair, ma'am.