 Bertie, is that veil dry yet? I'm drying it with the iron. There. That does it. Let me have it. I'll run up to Marjorie's room with it. And may I take it up for you, Gildersleeve? No, Mr. Thompson. I ain't taking no chances. I'm taking it up. Yeah, all right, Bertie. It still looks like muslin to me. I'm sorry about the cake, Gildersleeve. Don't worry about it, Mr. Thompson. Bertie patched it up. She took some frosting off the backside and put it on the front side.