MISS KINEALY (_slumped in her chair so that her knee rose higher than
her waist-line_): I always say of Stella, she's one nut too hard for me
to crack, and I've cracked a good many in my life. Why that girl 'ain't
got beaus galore--well, I give up!
MRS. SCHUMP (_stooped for an infinitesimal stab of needle_): She don't
give 'em a chance, Cora. You can't tell me there is not many a nice,
sober young man wouldn't be glad to sit out a Saturday evening with her.
She's that bashful she don't give 'em a chance. I tell her it's almost
as much ruination to a girl to be too retiring as to be too forward. She
don't seem to have a way with the boys.
MISS SCHUMP (_in a pink, warm-looking flannelette kimono and brushing
out into fine fluff her flaxen-looking hair, and then, in the name of
to-morrow's kink, plaiting it into a multitude of small, tight-looking
braids_): You can talk, mamma. You, too, Cora, with a boy like Archie
Sensenbrenner and your wedding-day in sight. But what's a girl goin' to
do if she don't take; if she ain't got an Archie?
Mrs. Schump (_riding her glasses down toward the end of her nose to
look up sharply over them_): Get one.
"There you go again! Honest, you two make me mad.
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