“This time, Major, I fear you don’t,” agreed Beth.  “Your convictions regarding society may be admirable, but you’re weak on the gown question.”

“If the women would only listen to me,” began the Major, dictatorially; but Uncle John cut him short.

“They won’t, sir; they’ll listen to no man when it comes to dressmaking.”

“Don’t they dress to captivate the men, then?” asked the Major, with fine sarcasm.

“Not at all,” answered Louise, loftily.  “Men seldom know what a woman has on, if she looks nice; but women take in every detail of dress and criticise it severely if anything happens to be out of date, ill fitting or in bad taste.”

“Then they’re in bad taste themselves!” retorted the Major, hotly.

“Tut-tut, sir; who are you to criticise woman’s ways?” asked Uncle John, much amused.  The Major was silenced, but he glared as if unconvinced.

“Dressmaking is a nuisance,” remarked Beth, placidly; “but it’s the penalty we pay for being women.”

“You’re nothing but slips o’ girls, not out of your teens,” grumbled the Major.  And no one paid any attention to him.

“We want to do you credit, Uncle John,” said Patsy, brightly.  “Perhaps our names will be in the papers.”

“They’re there already,” announced Mr. Merrick, picking up the Sunday paper that lay beside him.

A chorus of exclamations was followed by a dive for the paper, and even the Major smiled grimly as he observed the three girlish heads close together and three pair of eager eyes scanning swiftly the society columns.

“Here it is!” cried Patsy, dancing up and down like a school-girl; and Louise read in a dignified voice—­which trembled slightly with excitement and pleasure—­the following item: 

“Miss Von Taer will receive next Thursday evening at the family mansion in honor of Miss Merrick, Miss Doyle and Miss De Graf.  These three charming debutantes are nieces of John Merrick, the famous tin-plate magnate.”

“Phoo!” growled the Major, during the impressive hush that followed; “that’s it, exactly.  Your names are printed because you’re John Merrick’s nieces.  If it hadn’t been for tin-plate, my dears, society never would ‘a’ known ye at all, at all!”

CHAPTER VI

THE FLY IN THE BROTH

Diana was an experienced entertainer and under her skillful supervision the reception proved eminently successful.  Nor had she cause to be ashamed of the three protegees she presented to society, since capable modistes had supplemented their girlish charms and freshness with costumes pertinent to the occasion.  Perhaps Patsy’s chubby form looked a little “dumpish” in her party gown, for some of Diana’s female guests regarded her with quiet amusement and bored tolerance, while the same critical posse was amazed and envious at Beth’s superb beauty and stately bearing.