"John--John used to say about it that--" "Good! Say, you're some little learner--you are! Easy there--always line an eyebrow downward--there--more--so!" "So?" "Say, you got Zaza, Perfecta, Lillie Russell, and the whole hothouse bunch of them knocked through the glass ceiling." Delia leaned to her radiant reflection in the mirror and smiled through teeth faintly pink from the ruby richness of her lips. "You ought to see my little sister Cottie, Ysobel. When she comes you'll sit up and take real notice. I ain't even in her class. She can sit on her hair--it's so long--and it's so gold it's hot-lookin'." "Before I had typhoid mine was the same way--you can't put them dresses on over your head, girl. You gotta climb in--there ain't no room for a overhead act. There! Say, look at that side-drape, will you! I bet that lace set some dame back ten a yard. Some class! Don't forget to strike for thirty right off the bat--they'll think more of you. Say, girl, it's worth the time I'm wasting on you to see Casey's face when I steer you into there this morning." "Ain't it--a beauty, Ysobel! But it's a little tight, kinda--" "Now begin that again, will you? Honest, if Vyette could hear that line!" "Around the knees I mean, Ysobel. It's hard for me to walk." "If it was any looser I'd get a fit of the laughs like I did over that red serge. If it was any looser--for Gawd's sake, leave that neck open! No, no; down like that! A strip of real, lily-white, garden-variety neck, and she wants to pin it shut!" "I--I feel ashamed--I--I--kinda hate to leave it open." "Shades of Vyette! Leave that neck alone, can't you? After all my preachin' yesterday, look where I landed you. Nowheres!" "Like that, Ysobel?" "Take the pin out, there; center left like that. Say, girl, I wish you knew about this game what I've forgot." "Me, too, Ysobel." "Say, listen to her warblin' down there, will you? What's she practisin' for, I wonder--a chaser act on a four-a-day circuit? Breathe in, girl, you may be a perfect thirty-six, but you'll never make a tape-measure see it your way." "Shall I--shall I tell 'em I got a voice, Ysobel? Me and my little sister used to sing in--" Miss Du Prez glanced up over Della's shoulder and, by proxy of the mirror, their eyes met. The red of exertion was high in her face, and one corner of her mouth compressed over pins, so that her words leaked out as through the lips of a faun. "Voice! You remind me of the fellow that went down to Bowling Green to bowl. They got as much room for voices in musical comedy as a magazine's got for anything besides the advertisin' pages." "My little sister's got--" "Can you beat it? 'Voice,' she says. You put your voice in your ankles and waist-line, girl, and it'll get you further. And as for scales like our friend down-stairs, learn to keep the runners out of your silk stockings first. There, give it the Anna Held tilt--there--more--so!" "Oh-h-h, Ysobel--oh-h-h!"