“Maybe he did, Mary,” I put in.

“But I’m not joking!  I tell you he’s the living, speaking image of that figure.  Come to think of it, he isn’t speaking, he hasn’t said a word!  Tell me, Mr. Carpenter, have you got a voice, or are you only a close up from ‘The Servant in the House’ or ‘Ben Hur’?  Say something, so I can get a line on you!”

Again I stood wondering; how would Carpenter take this?  Would he bow his head and run before a hail-storm of feminine impertinence?  Would she “vamp” him, as she did every man who came near her?  Or would this man do what no man alive had yet been able to do—­reduce her to silence?

He smiled gently; and I saw that she had vamped him this much, at least—­he was going to be polite!  “Mary,” he said, “I think you are carrying everything but the nose jewels.”

“Nose jewels?  What a horrid idea!  Where did you get that?”

“When you came in, I was quoting the prophet Isaiah.  Some eighty generations of ladies have lived on earth since his day, Mary; they have won the ballot, but apparently they haven’t discovered anything new in the way of ornaments.  Some of the prophet’s words may be strange to you, but if you study them you will see that you’ve got everything he lists:  ’their tinkling ornaments about their feet, and their cauls, and their round tires like the moon, the chains, and the bracelets, and the mufflers, the bonnets, and the ornaments of the legs, and the headbands, and the tablets, and the earrings, the rings, and nose jewels, the changeable suits of apparel, and the mantles, and the wimples, and the crisping pins, the glasses, and the fine linen, and the hoods, and the veils.’”

As Carpenter recited this list, his eyes roamed from one part to another of the wondrous “get up” of Mary Magna.  You can imagine her facing him—­that bold and vivid figure which you have seen as “Cleopatra” and “Salome,” as “Dubarry” and “Anne Boleyn,” and I know not how many other of the famous courtesans and queens of history.  In daily life her style and manner is every bit as staggering; she is a gorgeous brunette, and wears all the colors there are—­when she goes down the street it is like a whole procession with flags.  I’ll wager that, apart from her jewels, which may or may not have been real, she was carrying not less than five thousand dollars worth of stuff that fall afternoon.  A big black picture hat, with a flower garden and parts of an aviary on top—­but what’s the use of going over Isaiah’s list?

“Everything but the nose jewels,” said Carpenter, “and they may be in fashion next week.”

“How about the glasses?” put in Rosythe, entering into the fun.

“Oh, shucks!” said I, protecting my friend.  “Turn out the contents of your vanity-bag, Mary.”

“And the crisping-pins?” laughed the critic.

“Hasn’t Madame Planchet just shown us those?”

All this while Mary had not taken her eyes off Carpenter.  “So you are really one of those religious fellows!” she exclaimed.  “You’ll know exactly what to do without any directing!  How perfectly incredible!” And at that appropriate moment T-S pushed open the door and waddled in!