FLUTTER-DUCK. 385
its radius, as if the soul of Flutter- Duck had passed into its body.
The moment of departure had come. The cab stood at the street-door, and a composite crowd stood round the cab. In the Ghetto a cab has special significance, and Flutter-Duck would have to pass to hers through an avenue of polyglot commentators. At the last moment, adjusting her fleecy wrap over her head like any grande dame (from whom she differed only in the modesty of her high bodice and her full sleeves), Flutter-Duck discovered that there was a great rent in one part of the wrap and a great stain in another. She uttered an exclamation of dismay — this seemed to her the climax of the day's misfortunes.
"What shall I do? What shall I do?" she cried, her dignity almost melting in tears.
The by-standers made sympathetic but profitless noises.
" Oh, double it another way," jerked Rachel from the work-table. " Come here, I'll do it for you."
" Are you too lazy to come here ? " replied Flutter-Duck irritably. Rachel rose and went towards her, and rearranged the wrap.
" Oh no, that won't do," complained Flutter-Duck, attitudinising before the glass. " It shows as bad as ever. Oh, what shall I do?"
"Do you know what I'll tell you?" said her husband meditatively : " Don't go ! "
Flutter-Duck threw him a fiery look.
"Oh well," said Rachel, shrugging her shoulders and thrusting forward her lip contemptuously, " it'll have to do."
" No, it won't — lend me your pink one."
" I'm not going to have my pink one dirtied, too," grumbled Rachel.
