Beer taught her how to wear jewelry, and directed what pieces she should ask Petticoat for next. Altogether, Warble was trying out things--but carefully, as a good housewife tries out lard. And she was not yet certain as to the results. Environment has to reckon, now and then with heredity. Warble, at soul, all for utility, economy, diligence and efficiency, transplated to Butterfly Center, with its keynote of careless idleness, waste motion and extravagance. One must win out. Had she a Dempsey of a heredity against a Carpentier of an environment? Or was it the other way round? She planned to reform Butterfly Center, to do away with the street statues, the useless patches of flowers; tear down and rebuild the ridiculous classic architecture of many of the shops and substitute good solid livable houses for the castles and châteaux, the barracks and bungalows that adorned the residence section. These reforms she meant to bring about shortly, but first, she must begin with her home. In her pride of being a Petticoat she loved every detail of Ptomaine Haul. Yet she knew it did not express herself, it was not the keynote of her own Warbling personality. What to do. She sat in her boudoir, its mauve walls and gold Japanese screens backgrounding her plump prettiness, as she lolled on a gold brocade _chaise longue_. She glanced out at the peacocks strutting in the Italian garden and listened to the rooks cawing in the cypresses between the marble urns on the terrace steps. It was a big proposition to change all that. To turn the bird sticks into pruning hooks and the bird baths into plowshares. Could she do it? Doubtful. She went out into the hall and looked over the rail of the great rotunda. Rugs hung from the rail, as it might be a Turkish Monday. Below, she could see the lake in the front hall, also she could glimpse the armored bronze Petticoats guarding the entrance that led to the corridor that led to the hall leading into the dining-room. It was well nigh hopeless. Warble sighed. Then she rang for Beer and ordered some French pastry and a cup of chocolate. Revived and revivified, Warble decided on a mad dash for reform. Ordering Beer to dress her quickly, she did all she could to help, and soon, in a daring combination of canary, black and coral, she was on her way to the shops. She achieved what is known as a utility box, and which is compounded of matting and a few bamboo strips. This she caused to be set up in her boudoir. Came Petticoat. No oral observations, but the next day an antique Florentine chest, carved by Dante, replaced the box. “Just as utile,” Bill remarked, “and a lot more expensive. Kiss me.” That is the way the Petticoats of this world decree, and that is the way the Warbles submit.