"Indeed! And in return for your improving conversation, I’m to make up characters for silly people who never had any? No, thank you. I don’t propose to spend half an evening letting tiresome people bore me, and the other half watching the fine art of dancing degraded into an orgy of fox-trots and jazz steps." Mazie stuck her tongue out when Cornelia wasn’t looking, and Claude responded with a sympathetic wink. "Don’t be a spoil-sport, Cornelia!" said Mazie, hitting the nail on the head. "What is Rob to do?" "Yes, what is poor Robin to do, poor thing?" echoed Claude. Cornelia plainly enjoyed the sensation her blank refusal created. But her elation subsided when she caught a glimpse of Mazie and Claude in a stealthy interchange of grimaces. "Do nothing," she replied tartly. "Or ask Mazie. She’d make a capital gypsy with her dark hair and velvet paws. And she could eke out her fortune-telling with her monkeyshines." "Thanks, old girl. But I’ll take Claude’s tip and go as Salome, and I’ll dance my feet off just to tantalize you. If the boys want me to, I’ll do the dance of the seven veils for them." "_All_ seven?" asked Claude, affecting an air of seasoned rakishness. "All _but_ the seventh will be one too many if Big Burley is present," said Cornelia. "Just so, Cornelia," said Claude. "A good reason for you to come and see that Mazie behaves herself. And that Big Burley does likewise. As the Gypsy Queen you may be able to keep him in order by predicting dire disasters for him. For he’s a regular old screen villain: he fears nothing but the fictitious." "Lothario, in the present state of my own fortunes, I’m not keen to tell other people their fortunes." "Oh, but come anyhow. If not as a gypsy, then as a ballet dancer or a columbine. Or anything else that takes your fancy. We won’t let you stay at home, so get that out of your head." "Silly boy," said Cornelia, with a prolonged, musical laugh. "A ballet dancer’s dress calls for the most cast iron of corsets. Do you see me putting on those abominations? No. Not even for love of you, dear." She was fond of drawing to the attention of her men friends the fact that a corset was an article she rigorously abjured. "Oh, the boys know you never wear the iron maiden," said Mazie tartly. "All the Outlaws know it by heart. But they won’t treat you any the worse for it, Corny. Men like a girl to be squashy—" "Provided there’s not too much to squash," Claude thrust in. "Your remarks are all highly illuminating," said Robert Lloyd addressing the company. "But they don’t help me out of my box. Remember, I promised the committee to get Cornelia for the gypsy act." "What, my frisky youth," exclaimed Mazie. "Expect Cornelia to hide her golden coiffure under a shopworn wig! Guess again." "Mazie’s shot is a good one," said Robert. "Cornelia, you can’t refuse on no better ground than that helping us would put you out of countenance." "Out of hair," corrected Claude.