ON WITH THE DANCE
Things are looking considerably brighter here. Angelica has had the inspiration of injecting a little jazz into the Duke’s attentions. After all, dukes are but human; they can’t hold out against a jazz. The noble antique has dropped forty years from his age, and is dancing with all the abandon of a chorus man. Nothing could be sweeter, so far as Angelica’s proud parents are concerned, but the bishop and the Duke’s sister,—oh, Heavens!
THE BITTER END
And this is the hideous conclusion of the whole affair. The Duke is indubitably not as young as he used to be, and the jazz dance has brought on a complete breakdown. He has to be ignominiously led away to Mortgaged Towers, the ducal estate, in a bath chair. The Blivvins family plumbs the utmost depths of gloom—and all bets on Angelica’s marriage into the British peerage have been officially declared off.
THE DANCE OF THE GHOULS
A view of the extreme left wing of the balcony, during a piano recital by the newest Russian prodigy. The members of this exclusive little group simply don’t know how they would ever get along without music. If it weren’t for music, they would be absolutely powerless to express their souls. Nothing is over their heads. Debussy to them is just like nothing at all to you or me, and they whistle catchy little tunes by Rimsky-Korsakoff in their bath-tubs. They are shown here still a trifle spent with enthusiasm after the pianist has obliged with one of his own compositions, entitled, “Dance of the Ghouls.”
LONG MAY HE PERMANENTLY WAVE
The world-famous pianist, who was once told that he had a Beethoven-like brow and has been dressing the part ever since. He can only manage to work in one concert annually; the rest of his time is taken up in making phonograph and pianola records, posing for heavily shadowed photographs, paying premiums for the insurance on his hands, and lending atmosphere and tone to the more exclusive studio teas.
NO COAXING
The society soprano—always a feature of the programme for the charity concert. It is pretty to see how gladly she volunteers her services for such events; there is no false modesty about it, no hanging back, no making excuses, no insistence on being coaxed, no niggardliness as to encores. No, she steps right forward, brings her music, supplies her own accompanist, and just lets herself go. She is here portrayed at work, rendering, by her own request, “Baby’s Boat’s the Silver Moon.”
On the Trail of the Concert Lovers
“Among Those Present”—at All the Smart Concert Halls
THE INFANT PRODIGY
The little dear has been appearing in public for the last four years—she is soon to celebrate her seventh birthday—and has played in every country in Europe, before all the royalty worth knowing, adding materially to the uneasiness of the crowned heads. This wonder-kiddie, as her press-agent so affectionately calls her, never had a lesson in her life; it’s a gift. It has also proved to be a gift to the father of the phenomenon—he hasn’t done a day’s work in years.
THE MALE DUET
The male, broadly speaking, duet—a great favorite with concert audiences. They go in strongly for the brighter, cleaner school of song; they are particularly good in those ballads about shepherds and shepherdesses, named Colin and Phyllis. They also get in some really great work on the botanical numbers; those heartbreaking ditties with the mild sex interest, all about the love of the violet for the rose.
AMONG THOSE PRESENT
A pack of concert-hounds about to corner their prey—straining at their leashes in the foyer of the concert hall, just before the performance gets under way. All the best-known types of the species are here represented, from the strange beings who are here because they like this sort of thing, to the pitiful creatures who have to come—because their wives like it.
The Trials of the Newly Poor
A Heart-rending Picture of Life as it is Lived Behind Aristocratic Doors
THE IDEALS OF ALGY
What a topsy-turvy old world it is. And how its recent antics have upset our very highest Society! For a smart young Johnny to-day, Peace hath its horrors just as well as War. Imagine being a Penniless Peer, as was young Algernon Wemyss (of Wimbledon) when sterling-exchange suddenly established its low-visibility record. But, did the brave lad falter? Well, hardly. With only his coronet for capital, he strolled into the pleasant supper parties, of the musical comedy field, finally playing, with great success, the title-role in “The Ideals of Algy,” two of which he may be seen embracing as he takes his first step toward rehabilitating the shattered fortunes of his proud old family.
BACK TO NATURE
But there was, to Algy, something raffish about the stage. Once on his financial feet again, he realized that the smartest possible form of trade, for a chap with his tastes, is that of the creator of lovely frocks for lovely maidens. And—no sooner said than done! In less than two weeks Algy was known, far and wide, as the man who made Poiret take to French brandy. Algy’s little shop was a rendezvous for every fair lady with any pretensions to chic. But alas! he hopelessly offended his very best customer, Mlle. Nini Latouche, of the Opera. Nini had him black listed everywhere, with the result that the shutters were soon up at Algy’s.
THE PEER AND THE PERI
It is something of a drop from the frills of fashion to the grease and grime of being a fashionable chauffeur; but needs must when the problem of high living drives. Having owned cars all his life, Algy naturally spoke the language perfectly and found no difficulty in landing a job with Abraham Ashurst, the Mattress King. Unfortunately, Algy became much less interested in the mechanism of his car than in the personality of its daily occupant—Miss Annabelle Ashurst who simply doted on ignitions, and everything connected with speed, including the chauffeur. Observing, from his classic portico, that Algy was more of a magneto than a man-servant, father Abraham banished him forthwith from his richly upholstered bosom.
DE PROFUNDIS
And now we see Algy in that darkest hour which comes before dawn—joyless and jobless, and yet still able to derive a certain bitter amusement from a new game of solitaire which he plays exclusively with unpaid bills. The idea is to work the things into two piles, in one of which the certificates of indebtedness shall equal the accounts receivable in the other. We may add that, in this pathetic pastime, Algy has just failed to go game for the thirty-seventh time.
SUCCESS AT LAST
Hurrah for Algy! Like an inspiration came his last and best idea, to capitalize his nimble feet and become a dancing instructor. Below, you see him at the turning-point of his career, just as the maid is informing him that a fabulously rich Miss Detworthy has arrived for her first instruction. Note the enraptured expression of Miss D. (the lady with the circular marks on her gown). Note the appreciative glance of our hero. And so, at last, Algy is able to witness the triumph, in his unhappy life, of Romance, Laughter, and Love.
MILLY, THE LIGHT-WEIGHT
As the subsequent series of ringside flash-lights indicates, all the world’s fashionable fair ones have taken up the maidenly art of self-defense. Everybody’s doing it—both in London and New York. The Wilson family is a typical example. Dainty Millicent, shown at right, is prominently mentioned to win the Junior cup. No more breakfast in bed for Milly. Vanished, the boredom of banting. An eight o’clock round with the punching bag and the girl’s day has really begun.
The Prize Fight Finally Gets into Society
The Smartest Diversion Is Now the Science of the Swat and the Slam
MILADY, THE WELTER-WEIGHT
On the right is Millicent’s mama, who, as the picture clearly shows, is rapidly rounding into championship form. Her sparring partner, kind-hearted old Harry Wilson, who is both outweighted and outranged, labors under the added disadvantage of being, in private life, the lady’s husband. The male half of the bout is plainly covering-up. One false blow,—a cross-counter to any one of his adversary’s chins, for example,—and Harry could be haled into the nearest court on a charge of mass murder.
Showing how the smartest dowagers of the sea lion class are waking up to the need of fighting their way into the bear-cat class. It’s only in play, of course, but it’s wicked play.
THE LADY BANTAM
Below, we see little sister Grace, home from school for the holidays and, of course, mad about boxing, as all the rest of society is. The young parson, bless his pale pink soul, has inquired about the extra-curriculum activities of Grace’s schoolmates, not for a moment expecting that the answer to his innocent interest would be a blow in the Adam’s-apple. This, Grace explains, is the favorite blow of M. Carpentier. An intriguing phase of the tragedy is the delight of old Mrs. Brown, who sits in the right-hand, ring-side armchair, and who has secret designs on the parson—in the shape of her daughter, the adjacent young person who looks a little like a turban-ed turkey’s-egg.
A CHARMING EVENING IN HIGH SOCIETY
Just now boxing is all the rage in the great and wicked metropolis. Set-to’s happen in the best regulated sets. Nothing, for instance, could have kept the last Sutherby dinner-party awake, after ten, had it not been the perfectly arranged post-prandial entertainment provided by these thoughtful hosts. In spite of an abundance of wines, Lucullan dishes, triple extract of mocha, and an orchestra of twelve saxophones, the party was dying on its feet, until Madame S. escorted the guests to the ballroom where a ring greeted their eyes. From that point on, the weary guests came out of their slumbers, and gaiety reigned supreme.
THE CARELESS CRITIC
The unexpected is always interesting but it is sometimes frightfully disturbing, as well. For instance, here is Miss Emily Rivington, who has gone to a dance and has just remarked, over her left shoulder, to her friend Lucille Taplow—“I ask you, my dear, have you ever seen anything more hideous than this room?” Of course, the poor child was entirely unaware of the fact that her hostess had pussyfooted her way into the room just in time to receive, point blank, the full force of little Emily’s remarks.
Dreadful Moments in Society
Embarrassing Little Episodes Which Might Happen to Even the Best of Us
ART FOR THE ARTLESS
If Algy Appleton’s fiancée had shown him something easy to understand in the way of art—like an insurance calendar or the cover of a seed catalogue—he might have been able to murmur something intelligent, but when, in the presence of the sculptor, she led him up to a portrait of herself done in the most modern manner, the poor boy’s mental motor went absolutely dead.
SACRED AND PROFANE LOVE
What is a modern ménage without its little affaire de coeur? Surely, those whose hearts still find room for romance will pity the plight of charming Mrs. Francklyn Sunderland who finds herself, as it were, between two fires, one of which warms the slippers of her home-loving husband, while the other crackles over the telephone in the burning words of Mrs. S.’s latest and very best beau. Mrs. S.’s situation is rapidly growing desperate. Query! What should she do?
THE GREAT UNKNOWN
Marian Holworthy’s right-hand dinner neighbor is the guest of honor and a tremendous genius of some sort, but, for the life of her, Marian cannot think what his specialty is. She has tried him on Art, Music, and Literature without eliciting more than a grunt and is wondering whether she ought to ask him, right out, whether he works for a living.
POVERTY AND RICHES
Poor penniless Dick Wadleigh is in a dreadful fix. He has promised that he will tender his heart and hand to Loretta Lorillard, the rich sister of his over-seas American chum. And now he is gazing upon the lady for the first time and finding that she is, socially and physically speaking, a dud. Just to make things pleasanter, brother Lorillard is hoarsely whispering: “Do it now, old boy, do it now.”
ENTER THE HERO
Having tried everything else at least once, our hero feels that it is only fair to see if there’s anything in matrimony, so he has set forth in quest of something really good in the way of a wife. He is here shown at the conclusion of his affair with Mirabel, a debutante with every qualification of the Perfect Helpmate. But just as everything was getting pleasantly arranged he discovered her secret vice—she is a slave to free verse. She pours out her soul in unfettered rhythms for a whole evening and, really, he never could have anything like that in the house.
On the Trail of a Wife
Détours on the Road to Matrimony
THE SECOND ENTRY
The next event in the series is Phyllis, who specializes in Early Victorian work—blushes, swoons, down-cast eyes, dropped handkerchiefs, and all the rest. Our hero was just about to fall a prey to her appealing femininity and beg her to name the bridesmaids. And then they chanced to drop in at an informal little sparring match, and he caught a glimpse of Phyllis’ inner nature (Phyllis is here pictured in action). Our hero is painfully realizing that this effectually shatters his dream of a sunny married life.
EXHIBIT C
Reader, let us present Chloe, Exhibit C in our hero’s collection of possibilities. From the moment he met Chloe he was intrigued; he followed her about doggedly, always pining to see more of her. Alas, he got his wish when he invited her to the opera, and she appeared in her new Paris gown. Although he feels that, after seeing her in the dress, the ethical thing to do would be to marry her, he cannot help insisting on having a little illusion left—so he regretfully passes out of her life.
THE ORDEAL BY AIR
The next in the batting order is Daphne, who appeared, for a time, to be the Ultimate One. In fact, it was all practically settled until she invited our hero to accompany her on a little jaunt in her aeroplane. He felt that there were few lengths to which he wouldn’t go on the ground, but up in the air was unmistakably something else again; so he progressed easily to the next young siren on the list.
THE SAD CASE OF PEGGY
And then there was Peggy. Really, he couldn’t have found a more perfect helpmate than Peggy—civil to her parents, pleasant to have around a bridge table, fond of children and potted plants. Nothing could have been sweeter—until she took him out motoring. He is here registering a silent vow that if he ever gets home all in one piece, he will never permit himself to so much as gaze upon his adorable little Peggy again.
ANOTHER BLOW
By turning your head just a trifle to the left, you will got a rather good idea of Dolores, the next to crash in our hero’s youthful affections. He was in a fair way to get all worked up over Dolores’ vamping specialties—until in a confidential moment she laid bare her strange, exotic, Ballet Russe sort of soul to him.... After that he knew that things between them twain could never be the same again.
THE BITTER END
And just below is the end of the whole affair; trying out a half-dozen of the most efficient sirens of his acquaintance, our hero finally marries Mary, who rates about minus 30 in looks, brains, and charm. No one has ever discovered why the veteran of countless affairs always eventually marries a complete physical and intellectual blank. As the proverb so aptly puts it, matrimony does make strange bedfellows.
THE DAWN OF A NEW LIFE
Perhaps the sweetest time in a girl’s life is that roseate moment when she gets her first divorce. It is a time that comes but once to a girl. When at last her final decree arrives, she stands, in innocent wonder, on the threshold of a new life. What pretty, girlish dreams are hers as she goes out into the great world in search of a minister, so that she can start things all over again.
THE ENDLESS CHAIN
Only the shortage of white paper prevented the artist from prolonging the above idea indefinitely. It is the motif for a frieze entitled “Matrimony”—rather a quaint little conception, isn’t it? If you are at all married—or even if you are only an innocent bystander—you will get the idea without a struggle. As soon as divorce mercifully looses one set of shackles, a change of partners is rapidly effected, new bonds are formed—and there they are, right back at the very beginning again.
Divorce: A Great Indoor Sport
It is Beginning to Rank First Among Our Fashionable
and Popular Pastimes
THE FLAW
There is, unfortunately, a bad hitch in the process of obtaining a divorce. They haven’t perfected the method, as yet—it needs a lot of working over. This having to wait about for months or years is really too tiresome; it cuts in so on one’s time. Why, any really earnest worker, going on the schedule of a forty-four-hour week, could be married and divorced three or four times over in the time it now takes a lady to be legally free from only one husband.
THE DIVORCE SPECIAL
Any time that you want to see a bit of life, go to an American railway station and watch the outgoing trains to Nevada. Several ticket agents have to be constantly on duty in the window where both-way tickets to Reno are sold; one man couldn’t keep up with the rush of trade. A typical line at the ticket office is shown here—it is considered de rigueur for husbands to accompany their outgoing wives to the train. If you are contemplating a jaunt to the nation’s reconstruction center in the near future, it is a bit safer to book seats several weeks ahead.
OLD HOME WEEK
It is so nice for the new bridegroom to meet his wife’s collection of former husbands. It is something for him to look forward to, all through the honeymoon. These little gatherings are so delightfully home like—it is reassuring to feel that you are all members of the same club.
BACK TO THE START AGAIN
This little scene is the sort of thing that divorce leads to,—hope springs eternal, and all that. A divorce simply gets one into the right frame of mind for a fresh start in matrimony. After all, Nature will have its own way; there’s nothing like love—it is the passion to which the best divorce lawyers attribute their success.
Wild Bores We Have Met
Question! Who—in Society—Is the Unadulterated,
100 Per Cent. Bore?
BEHIND THE “TIMES”
Bores may be met with at all times of the day, but none bores so blightingly as he who bores at breakfast. Who more completely spoils a déjeuner than the hideous male shown above who absolutely refuses to pick up his cues in the sweet little matutinal dialogue?
THE MONDAY-TUESDAY-WEDNESDAY BORE
Mrs. Ormsby-Jones, at right, represents that class of almost unbearable bores whose social slogan is “Never take no for an answer,” a group otherwise known as the “Come-Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Class.” The Newly-Wed Pangborns, at the other end of the wire, have already fought off three different dinner suggestions from Mrs. O.-J. and can only think of death from apoplexy as an avenue of escape. But is Mrs. O.-J. down-hearted? Never! “Well, then, how about Thursday?” she asks sweetly.
THE BABY BORE
In ancient times, Spartans used to expose their infants on the mountains to test their toughness. The people at Mrs. Willoughby’s tea are wishing that this test had been tried on little Gladys, who has been exhibited by her enthusiastic mother and made to recite La Fontaine’s “Maître Corbeau” in the original Ollendorf. Major Radcliffe, who possesses only military French, is seriously considering going over the top—with Gladys as his objective.
THE BOASTFUL BORE
A bore of tremendous calibre is the plutocratic person who enjoys what psychologists call “acute caste-consciousness.” Take Mrs. Eric Appledorn, for instance, who is the lady shown above with a map of the Amazon River appliquéd on her façade. Can’t you imagine how it bores Dorothy Dobbee, whose nearest approach to car-ownership is a pair of yellow goggles, to be told of the six Rolls-Royces which Mrs. Appledorn has bought for her children?
THE DIETETIC BORE
If I were little Ouija, I should certainly tip the table over on that insufferable blighter who, at every meal, demands a special menu of gluten bread, goldfish wafers, and prunes. “Nothing acid!” he cried; “Nothing starchy! Nothing albuminous! No sugar! Have you saccharine?” Geska, the maid, has no idea what saccharine is, but she is willing to try ground glass on this creature—at a venture.
THE THEATRE BORE
To end a day of perfect boredom, it is only necessary to go to the theatre with a person who has seen the play before and tells the plot to all those within earshot. At the big moment, pictured at the right, he has just crashed into the silence by assuring the Wilberforce girls that Vera, the heroine, isn’t really killed at all. “Just wait until the next act,” he says cheeringly, “she shoots him then.”
THE AWAKENING TO SPRING
If you are at all interested in tracing the love interest back to its very beginnings, all you have to do is to visit the nearest park, any bright Spring morning. Little scenes like this are going on all over the place; any member of the younger set, between the ages of two and five, can give you all the information you may require on just how wonderful nature really is. There is only one difference between love and any other contagious disease: once you have had the other disease, you are immune from a second attack.
HAIL, THE CONQUERING HERO!
When first love takes the form of hero worship, there is practically nothing that can be done about it. The case illustrated below is almost at the last stage, as is shown by the patient’s complete loss of appetite. The object of her maiden dreams is her mother’s guest, a returned big-game hunter—one of those bronze-skinned, clean-limbed outdoor men. Really, these people with clean limbs and chiseled features ought not to be at large; they get a young girl’s innocent inhibitions and major complexes all tangled up.
THE PROFESSIONAL SIREN
Don’t dwell too long on the picture above, gentle reader; if you have any heart at all, you will just break down and have a good hard cry. This is one of the bitterest phases of first love—the case of the adolescent moth and the professional flame. The youth is at that tender age where he classes all women under thirty-five as crude, and all unmarried women as uninteresting. The lady in the case is just about old enough to be a nice, understanding great-aunt. She is graciously allowing the youth to pour out his heart to her in a series of home-made sonnets,—after all, his little stunt helps to pass away the time until her next dance.
The Throes of First Love, in Society
A Few Fashionable Little Variations on the Oldest Theme in the World
LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT
The great romantic tragedies are no more tragic than an affair like this; for sheer bitterness, the epic of little Gladys and her adored Unknown makes “Romeo and Juliet” look like a bedroom farce. While walking in the park with her nurse, little Gladys, up to that moment but a headless slip of a girl, comes face to face with her fate—her Soul-Mate, her Ineffable One, her Man. It is love at first sight; but the anguished lovers are torn asunder almost immediately. The cruel nurse drags the stricken heroine home to her nap, while the Unknown’s father insists that he must deport himself like a little Man.
THE DANGEROUS DÉBUTANTE
And now we must witness the futile yearnings of the youth who has fallen in love with the most popular débutante of the season. He is virtually in a state of shell-shock. The thing has hit him so hard that all power of speech has completely left him. It is seldom that love affects anyone this way, in later life. You just take these little things as all in the day’s work, after you’ve had a few years’ experience with them.
FIRST LOVE—AND THE NOBLE THEATRICAL GOD
Here is an experience that comes but eight or ten times to a young girl—her worship of the dramatic hero. There are few purer forms of love than these idylls, and few more lucrative emotions—from the box-office standpoint. The youthful worshippers, chastely chaperoned by a vestal, attend every matinée, to bask in the glances of their idol. All their childish pennies are scraped together to buy the front row seats. It’s just the old, old story—it’s the woman that pays, and pays, and pays.
GARDENING
Gardening is always an extremely popular sport,—some people do so love to get close to nature. Of course, there are many who won’t have anything to do with this sport; they remember that all the trouble in the world started in a garden. It is not at all difficult to become a highly accomplished gardener. All it requires is a study of that invaluable text-book “How to Know What Makes the Wild Flowers Wild.”
A Calendar of Popular Outdoor Sports
As Practised Among Persons of Breeding and Quality
LAWN TENNIS
Lawn tennis is one of those sports that are very popular among the onlookers. Ladies who can’t tell a tennis racket from any other noise, and gentlemen who never have been able to understand why the players stand on different sides of the net, are most enthusiastic tennis spectators, never missing any of the big matches. Oh, well, history has proved that there always has been a certain deadly fascination in watching one’s fellow creatures suffer needlessly.
INDOOR GOLF
Golf, that greatest of all reasons why men leave home, has become a delightful indoor sport. All butlers count as hazards, and footmen may not be removed from the course. Mr. Reginald Vere de Vere, one of our best known after-dinner golfers, is here portrayed demonstrating that fine shot he nearly made on the eleventh hole.
SUMMER BOATING
Are you one of those who have always believed that a punt is the lowest form of wit? If you are, you must change your views, for punting is bound to happen at all the smartest wet places. All our dowagers and dancing men are delighted with the sport. It’s so pleasant to fish from a punt,—some people do so love to angle for anything that seems to be in the social swim.
CROQUET
The clergy is going in for croquet more strenuously than ever before. It is indeed splendid exercise; there is no better way of developing the vocabulary. The reverend gentleman on the right really should not hit his adversary over the head with his mallet. He should know that whoever hits his opponent with a mallet loses his next turn. The correct thing to do is to hit him with one of the stakes.
The Seven Deadly Temperaments
As Frequently Met With in the Ladies
THE FELINE TEMPERAMENT
Four members of the feline, velvet-pawed, low-springing, meat-eating, Cat family, shown in the act of trepanning little Angela, the sweet, blonde, yielding, and wholly worshipful being who is seated on the sofa before you. There is not one single nasty thing that the felines have forgotten to say about Angela, a girl who never did a wrong thing—except that she allowed Destiny to make her attractive to married men.
THE MATERNAL TEMPERAMENT
Here we see the ideal mother, the chatelaine type, a type upon which so many poets, novelists, and music hall singers have dilated. The future of the race is hers. It is a trifle hard to tell—whether she is a futurist sofa pillow or a marble parquet floor. This type of lady is always irresistible to the clergy, especially when they are of the Protestant persuasion. As will be observed, upon a closer scrutiny of the lady and her biological factor—the union has been fruitful.
THE SOULFUL TEMPERAMENT
Always devoted to calla lilies, rhythmic (or self-expression) dancing, and loose-fitting Greek robes. She usually displays an abnormal interest in what’s what on the buffet. Leave this type of girl alone with a tableful of truffles, pâtés, mushrooms, macaroons, queen olives, peaches, and chocolate éclairs, and the place, after a bit, will look like Bapaume, after the German evacuation.
THE ROMANTIC TEMPERAMENT
Cupid just leads her around from one dark corner to another and from one brave man to another. She lives exclusively upon little pencilled notes, chocolate bon bons, pressed violets, Percy Shelley, moonlight, and the strains of the guitar. Dangerous to a man in his first season. Equally dangerous to a man in the bald-headed fifties, but particularly dangerous to a man who is tottering on the brink of the grave.
THE NAGGING TEMPERAMENT
You know the kind. She simply won’t let you alone. Picking on you, all day long. She starts right in on you at breakfast, along with the coffee and the toast. She always gets up early and comes down all dressed and ready for a good day’s nagging. There is no known form of temperament so horrible, so poisonous, so soul-blighting—and so certain to marry. Oh, wives and mothers, what a lesson this picture should be to you.
THE PRACTICAL TEMPERAMENT
A frequent and highly commendable type of womanhood. She always knows exactly what she wants—which is usually something under the classification of Jewels. Furthermore, she knows how to get it, and she knows where to go for it. In short, she is a ferret.
THE ARTISTIC TEMPERAMENT
Last, but most frequently met with of all, we behold the artistic temperament. By that we mean the lady who feels things so keenly, suffers so acutely, and kicks so ferociously, that we know instinctively, on observing her, that she is passionately devoted to ART. Have you noticed that they always wear clinging robes and are very rude to their maids?