HOSTESS (_hastily_)--No, Maria, don't trouble. (_To guests_)--Perhaps, some of you gentlemen wouldn't mind lending us your overcoats to cover the clothes-horse? CHORUS (_with great lack of enthusiasm_)--Of course! Delighted! (_They go for coats._) HOSTESS (_to Poor Relative_)--Maria, you get the clothes-horse. I think it's in the laundry, or--Oh, I think it's in the cellar. Well, you look till you find it. (_To Briggs_)--I got as many of the things you asked for as I could remember. Will you read the list over? BRIGGS--Turnip and egg-beater-- HOSTESS--Yes. BRIGGS--Egg, large clock, jar of gold-fish, rabbit and empty barrel. HOSTESS--I have the egg. BRIGGS (_much annoyed_)--I particularly wanted the gold-fish, the clock and the barrel. (_Guests grow restless._) Hostess--Couldn't you do a trick while we are waiting--one with the egg-beater and turnip? BRIGGS--No; I don't know one. HOSTESS--Couldn't you make up one? BRIGGS (_icily_)--Certainly not. (_Gloom descends over the company, until the Poor Relative arrives, staggering under the clothes-horse._) CHORUS OF MEN GUESTS--Let me help you! (_Improvised screen is finally arranged._ Briggs _performs "parlor magic" for an hour. Guests, fidget, yawn and commence to drop away, one by one._) GUEST (_to Hostess_)--Really, we must tear ourselves away. Such a delightful evening!--not a dull moment. And your punch--heavenly! Do ask us again. Good night. HOSTESS--Thank you so much! So good of you to come. ANOTHER GUEST--Yes, we must go. I've had a perfectly dear time. HOSTESS--So sorry you must go. So good of you to come. Good night. IN THE DRESSING-ROOM CHORUS OF GUESTS--Wasn't it awful?--Such low people!--Why did we ever come--Parvenue! ELOCUTIONIST--I was all right, wasn't I, mama? You noticed they never clapped a bit until I'd walked the whole length of the room to my chair. It just showed how wrought up they were. You nearly mixed me up, though, prompting me in the wrong place; I-- HOSTESS (_throwing herself on sofa as door closes on last guest_)--Well, I'm completely done up! (_To Poor Relative_)--Maria, run up to my room, and get my red worsted bed-slippers. I can't stand these satin tortures a minute longer. Entertaining is an awful strain. It's so hard trying not to say the wrong thing at the right place. But, then, it certainly went off beautifully. I could tell every one had such a good time! COMIN' THU BY ANNE VIRGINIA CULBERTSON Yer's a sinner comin' thu, Crowd roun', bre'ren, sisters, too, Sing wid all yo' might an' main, He'p de sinner out er pain, He's comin', comin' thu. He bin "seekin'" dis long time, He'p him cas' de foe behime, Clap yo' han's an' sing an' shout, He'p him cas' de debil out, Le's wrassel him right thu. Tu'rr side de Gate er Sin, Year him kickin' ter git in, Putt up prayers wid might an' main, Dat he doesn' kick in vain, Y'all kin pray him thu.