Quality Street

By

J. M. Barrie

www.freeclassicebooks.com

Contents

ACT I   THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM... 3

ACT II   THE SCHOOL. 20

ACT III   THE BALL. 40

ACT IV   THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM... 59

QUALITY STREET

ACT I   THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM

The scene is the blue and white room in the house of the Misses Susan  and Phoebe Throssel in Quality Street; and in this little country town  there is a satisfaction about living in Quality Street which even  religion cannot give.  Through the bowed window at the back we have a  glimpse of the street.  It is pleasantly broad and grass-grown, and is  linked to the outer world by one demure shop, whose door rings a bell  every time it opens and shuts.  Thus by merely peeping, every one in Quality Street can know at once who has been buying a Whimsy cake, and  usually why.  This bell is the most familiar sound of Quality Street.  Now and again ladies pass in their pattens, a maid perhaps protecting  them with an umbrella, for flakes of snow are falling discreetly.  Gentlemen in the street are an event; but, see, just as we raise the curtain, there goes the recruiting sergeant to remind us that we are in  the period of the Napoleonic wars.  If he were to look in at the window  of the blue and white room all the ladies there assembled would draw  themselves up; they know him for a rude fellow who smiles at the  approach of maiden ladies and continues to smile after they have  passed.  However, he lowers his head to-day so that they shall not see  him, his present design being converse with the Misses Throssel's maid.

The room is one seldom profaned by the foot of man, and everything in  it is white or blue.  Miss Phoebe is not present, but here are Miss  Susan, Miss Willoughby and her sister Miss Fanny, and Miss Henrietta  Turnbull.  Miss Susan and Miss Willoughby, alas, already wear caps; but  all the four are dear ladies, so refined that we ought not to be  discussing them without a more formal introduction.  There seems no  sufficient reason why we should choose Miss Phoebe as our heroine  rather than any one of the others, except, perhaps, that we like her  name best.  But we gave her the name, so we must support our choice and  say that she is slightly the nicest, unless, indeed, Miss Susan is  nicer.

Miss Fanny is reading aloud from a library book while the others sew  or knit.  They are making garments for our brave soldiers now far away  fighting the Corsican Ogre.

MISS FANNY.  '... And so the day passed and evening came, black,  mysterious, and ghost-like.  The wind moaned unceasingly like a  shivering spirit, and the vegetation rustled uneasily as if something  weird and terrifying were about to happen.  Suddenly out of the  darkness there emerged a  Man .

( She says the last word tremulously but without looking up.  The  listeners knit more quickly. )

The unhappy Camilla was standing lost in reverie when, without pausing  to advertise her of his intentions, he took both her hands in his.

( By this time the knitting has stopped, and all are listening as if  mesmerised. )

Slowly he gathered her in his arms----

(MISS SUSAN  gives an excited little cry. )

MISS FANNY.  And rained hot, burning----'

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  Sister!

MISS FANNY ( greedily ).  'On eyes, mouth----'

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( sternly ).  Stop.  Miss Susan, I am indeed surprised  you should bring such an amazing, indelicate tale from the library.

MISS SUSAN ( with a slight shudder ).  I deeply regret, Miss  Willoughby----  ( Sees  MISS FANNY  reading quickly to herself. )  Oh,  Fanny!  If you please, my dear.

( Takes the book gently from her. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  I thank you.

( She knits severely. )

MISS FANNY ( a little rebel ).  Miss Susan is looking at the end.

(MISS SUSAN  closes the book guiltily. )

MISS SUSAN ( apologetically ).  Forgive my partiality for romance,  Mary.  I fear 'tis the mark of an old maid.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  Susan, that word!

MISS SUSAN ( sweetly ).  'Tis what I am.  And you also, Mary, my dear.

MISS FANNY ( defending her sister ).  Miss Susan, I protest.

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( sternly truthful ).  Nay, sister, 'tis true.  We are  known everywhere now, Susan, you and I, as the old maids of Quality  Street.  ( General discomfort. )

MISS SUSAN.  I am happy Phoebe will not be an old maid.

MISS HENRIETTA ( wistfully ).  Do you refer, Miss Susan, to V. B.?

(MISS SUSAN  smiles happily to herself. )

MISS SUSAN.  Miss Phoebe of the ringlets as he has called her.

MISS FANNY.  Other females besides Miss Phoebe have ringlets.

MISS SUSAN.  But you and Miss Henrietta have to employ papers, my dear.  ( Proudly ) Phoebe, never.

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( in defence of  FANNY).  I do not approve of Miss  Phoebe at all.

MISS SUSAN ( flushing ).  Mary, had Phoebe been dying you would have  called her an angel, but that is ever the way.  'Tis all jealousy to  the bride and good wishes to the corpse.  ( Her guests rise, hurt. )  My love, I beg your pardon.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  With your permission, Miss Susan, I shall put on my  pattens.

(MISS SUSAN  gives permission almost haughtily, and the ladies retire  to the bedroom,  MISS FANNY  remaining behind a moment to ask a  question. )

MISS FANNY.  A bride?  Miss Susan, do you mean that V. B. has declared?

MISS SUSAN.  Fanny, I expect it hourly.

(MISS SUSAN,  left alone, is agitated by the terrible scene with  MISS  WILLOUGHBY.)

( Enter  PHOEBE  in her bonnet, and we see at once that she really is  the nicest.  She is so flushed with delightful news that she almost  forgets to take off her pattens before crossing the blue and white  room. )

MISS SUSAN.  You seem strangely excited, Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  Susan, I have met a certain individual.

MISS SUSAN.  V. B.?  (PHOEBE  nods several times, and her gleaming eyes  tell  MISS SUSAN  as much as if they were a romance from the library. )  My dear, you are trembling.

PHOEBE ( bravely ).  No--oh no.

MISS SUSAN.  You put your hand to your heart.

PHOEBE.  Did I?

MISS SUSAN ( in a whisper ).  My love, has he offered?

PHOEBE ( appalled ).  Oh, Susan.

( Enter  MISS WILLOUGHBY,  partly cloaked. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  How do you do, Miss Phoebe.  ( Portentously )  Susan,  I have no wish to alarm you, but I am of opinion that there is a man in  the house.  I suddenly felt it while putting on my pattens.

MISS SUSAN.  You mean--a follower--in the kitchen?  ( She courageously  rings the bell, but her voice falters. )  I am just a little afraid of  Patty.

( Enter  PATTY,  a buxom young woman, who loves her mistresses and  smiles at them, and knows how to terrorise them. )

Patty, I hope we may not hurt your feelings, but--

PATTY ( sternly ).  Are you implicating, ma'am, that I have a follower?

MISS SUSAN.  Oh no, Patty.

PATTY.  So be it.

MISS SUSAN ( ashamed ).  Patty, come back, ( Humbly )  I told a  falsehood just now; I am ashamed of myself.

PATTY ( severely ).  As well you might be, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( so roused that she would look heroic if she did not spoil the  effect by wagging her finger at  PATTY).  How dare you.  There is a man  in the kitchen.  To the door with him.

PATTY.  A glorious soldier to be so treated!

PHOEBE.  The door.

PATTY.  And if he refuses?

( They looked perplexed. )

MISS SUSAN.  Oh dear!

PHOEBE.  If he refuses send him here to me.

( Exit PATTY. )

MISS SUSAN.  Lion-hearted Phoebe.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  A soldier?  ( Nervously ) I wish it may not be that  impertinent recruiting sergeant.  I passed him in the street to-day.  He closed one of his eyes at me and then quickly opened it.  I knew  what he meant.

PHOEBE.  He does not come.

MISS SUSAN.  I think I hear their voices in dispute.

( She is listening through the floor.  They all stoop or go on their  knees to listen, and when they are in this position the  RECRUITING  SERGEANT  enters unobserved.  He chuckles aloud.  In a moment  PHOEBE   is alone with him. )

SERGEANT ( with an Irish accent ).  Your servant, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( advancing sternly on him ).  Sir-- ( She is perplexed, as he  seems undismayed. ) Sergeant--  ( She sees mud from his boots on the  carpet. )  Oh! oh!  ( Brushes carpet. ) Sergeant, I am wishful to scold  you, but would you be so obliging as to stand on this paper while I do  it?

SERGEANT.  With all the pleasure in life, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( forgetting to be angry ).  Sergeant, have you killed people?

SERGEANT.  Dozens, ma'am, dozens.

PHOEBE.  How terrible.  Oh, sir, I pray every night that the Lord in  His loving-kindness will root the enemy up.  Is it true that the  Corsican Ogre eats babies?

SERGEANT.  I have spoken with them as have seen him do it, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  The Man of Sin.  Have you ever seen a vivandiere, sir?  ( Wistfully )  I have sometimes wished there were vivandieres in the  British Army.  ( For a moment she sees herself as one. )  Oh, Sergeant,  a shudder goes through me when I see you in the streets enticing those  poor young men.

SERGEANT.  If you were one of them, ma'am, and death or glory was the  call, you would take the shilling, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  Oh, not for that.

SERGEANT.  For King and Country, ma'am?

PHOEBE ( grandly ).  Yes, yes, for that.

SERGEANT ( candidly ).  Not that it is all fighting.  The sack of  captured towns--the loot.

PHOEBE ( proudly ).  An English soldier never sacks nor loots.

SERGEANT.  No, ma'am.  And then--the girls.

PHOEBE.  What girls?

SERGEANT.  In the towns that--that we don't sack.

PHOEBE.  How they must hate the haughty conqueror.

SERGEANT.  We are not so haughty as all that.

PHOEBE ( sadly ).  I think I understand.  I am afraid, Sergeant, you do  not tell those poor young men the noble things I thought you told them.

SERGEANT.  Ma'am, I must e'en tell them what they are wishful to hear.  There ha' been five, ma'am, all this week, listening to me and then  showing me their heels, but by a grand stroke of luck I have them at  last.

PHOEBE.  Luck?

(MISS SUSAN  opens door slightly and listens. )

SERGEANT.  The luck, ma'am, is that a gentleman of the town has  enlisted.  That gave them the push forward.

(MISS SUSAN  is excited. )

PHOEBE.  A gentleman of this town enlisted?  ( Eagerly )  Sergeant, who?

SERGEANT.  Nay, ma'am, I think it be a secret as yet.

PHOEBE.  But a gentleman!  'Tis the most amazing, exciting thing.  Sergeant, be so obliging.

SERGEANT.  Nay, ma'am, I can't.

MISS SUSAN ( at door, carried away by excitement ).  But you must, you  must!

SERGEANT ( turning to the door ).  You see, ma'am--

( The door is hurriedly closed. )

PHOEBE ( ashamed ).  Sergeant, I have not been saying the things I  meant to say to you.  Will you please excuse my turning you out of the  house somewhat violently.

SERGEANT.  I am used to it, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  I won't really hurt you.

SERGEANT.  Thank you kindly, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( observing the bedroom door opening a little, and speaking in a  loud voice ).  I protest, sir; we shall permit no followers in this  house.  Should I discover you in my kitchen again I shall pitch you  out--neck and crop.  Begone, sir.

( The  SERGEANT  retires affably.  All the ladies except  MISS  HENRIETTA  come out, admiring  PHOEBE.   The  WILLOUGHBYS  are attired  for their journey across the street. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  Miss Phoebe, we could not but admire you.

(PHOEBE,  alas, knows that she is not admirable. )

PHOEBE.  But the gentleman recruit?

MISS SUSAN.  Perhaps they will know who he is at the woollen-drapers.

MISS FANNY.  Let us inquire.

( But before they go  MISS WILLOUGHBY  has a duty to perform. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  I wish to apologise.  Miss Phoebe, you are a dear,  good girl.  If I have made remarks about her ringlets, Susan, it was  jealousy.  (PHOEBE  and  MISS SUSAN  wish to embrace her, but she is  not in the mood for it. ) Come, sister.

MISS FANNY ( the dear woman that she is ).  Phoebe, dear, I wish you  very happy.

( PHOEBE presses her hand. )

MISS HENRIETTA ( entering, and not to be outdone ).  Miss Phoebe, I  give you joy.

( The three ladies go, the two younger ones a little tearfully, and we  see them pass the window. )

PHOEBE ( pained ).  Susan, you have been talking to them about V. B.

MISS SUSAN.  I could not help it.  ( Eagerly ) Now, Phoebe, what is it  you have to tell me?

PHOEBE ( in a low voice ).  Dear, I think it is too holy to speak of.

MISS SUSAN.  To your sister?

PHOEBE.  Susan, as you know, I was sitting with an unhappy woman whose  husband has fallen in the war.  When I came out of the cottage he was  passing.

MISS SUSAN.  Yes?

PHOEBE.  He offered me his escort.  At first he was very silent--as he  has often been of late.

MISS SUSAN.   We  know why.

PHOEBE.  Please not to say that I know why.  Suddenly he stopped and  swung his cane.  You know how gallantly he swings his cane.

MISS SUSAN.  Yes, indeed.

PHOEBE.  He said: 'I have something I am wishful to tell you, Miss  Phoebe; perhaps you can guess what it is.'

MISS SUSAN.  Go on!

PHOEBE.  To say I could guess, sister, would have been unladylike.  I  said: 'Please not to tell me in the public thoroughfare'; to which he  instantly replied: 'Then I shall call and tell you this afternoon.'

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe!

( They are interrupted by the entrance of  PATTY  with tea.  They see  that she has brought three cups, and know that this is her impertinent  way of implying that mistresses, as well as maids, may have a  'follower.'  When she has gone they smile at the daring of the woman,  and sit down to tea. )

PHOEBE.  Susan, to think that it has all happened in a single year.

MISS SUSAN.  Such a genteel competency as he can offer; such a  desirable establishment.

PHOEBE.  I had no thought of that, dear.  I was recalling our first  meeting at Mrs. Fotheringay's quadrille party.

MISS SUSAN.  We had quite forgotten that our respected local physician  was growing elderly.

PHOEBE.  Until he said: 'Allow me to present my new partner, Mr.  Valentine Brown.'

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, do you remember how at the tea-table he  facetiously passed the cake-basket with nothing in it!

PHOEBE.  He was so amusing from the first.  I am thankful, Susan, that  I too have a sense of humour.  I am exceedingly funny at times; am I  not, Susan?

MISS SUSAN.  Yes, indeed.  But he sees humour in the most unexpected  things.  I say something so ordinary about loving, for instance, to  have everything either blue or white in this room, and I know not why  he laughs, but it makes me feel quite witty.

PHOEBE ( a little anxiously ).  I hope he sees nothing odd or quaint  about us.

MISS SUSAN.  My dear, I am sure he cannot.

PHOEBE.  Susan, the picnics.

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, the day when he first drank tea in this house.

PHOEBE.  He invited himself.

MISS SUSAN.  He merely laughed when I said it would cause such talk.

PHOEBE.  He is absolutely fearless.  Susan, he has smoked his pipe in  this room.

( They are both a little scared. )

MISS SUSAN.  Smoking is indeed a dreadful habit.

PHOEBE.  But there is something so dashing about it.

MISS SUSAN ( with melancholy ).  And now I am to be left alone.

PHOEBE.  No.

MISS SUSAN.  My dear, I could not leave this room.  My lovely blue and  white room.  It is my husband.

PHOEBE ( who has become agitated ).  Susan, you must make my house your  home.  I have something distressing to tell you.

MISS SUSAN.  You alarm me.

PHOEBE.  You know Mr. Brown advised us how to invest half of our money.

MISS SUSAN.  I know it gives us eight per cent., though why it should  do so I cannot understand, but very obliging, I am sure.

PHOEBE.  Susan, all that money is lost; I had the letter several days  ago.

MISS SUSAN.  Lost?

PHOEBE.  Something burst, dear, and then they absconded.

MISS SUSAN.  But Mr. Brown--

PHOEBE.  I have not advertised him of it yet, for he will think it was  his fault.  But I shall tell him to-day.

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, how much have we left?

PHOEBE.  Only sixty pounds a year, so you see you must live with us,  dearest.

MISS SUSAN.  But Mr. Brown--he----

PHOEBE ( grandly ).  He is a man of means, and if he is not proud to  have my Susan I shall say at once: 'Mr. Brown--the door.'

( She presses her cheek to  MISS SUSAN'S.)

MISS SUSAN ( softly ).  Phoebe, I have a wedding gift for you.

PHOEBE.  Not yet?

MISS SUSAN.  It has been ready for a long time.  I began it when you  were not ten years old and I was a young woman.  I meant it for myself,  Phoebe.  I had hoped that he--his name was William--but I think I must  have been too unattractive, my love.

PHOEBE.  Sweetest--dearest----

MISS SUSAN.  I always associate it with a sprigged poplin I was wearing  that summer, with a breadth of coloured silk in it, being a naval  officer; but something happened, a Miss Cicely Pemberton, and they are  quite big boys now.  So long ago, Phoebe--he was very tall, with brown  hair--it was most foolish of me, but I was always so fond of  sewing--with long straight legs and such a pleasant expression.

PHOEBE.  Susan, what was it?

MISS SUSAN.  It was a wedding-gown, my dear.  Even plain women, Phoebe,  we can't help it; when we are young we have romantic ideas just as if  we were pretty.  And so the wedding-gown was never used.  Long before  it was finished I knew he would not offer, but I finished it, and then  I put it away.  I have always hidden it from you, Phoebe, but of late I  have brought it out again, and altered it.

( She goes to ottoman and unlocks it. )

PHOEBE.  Susan, I could not wear it.  (MISS SUSAN  brings the  wedding-gown. )  Oh! how sweet, how beautiful!

MISS SUSAN.  You will wear it, my love, won't you?  And the tears it  was sewn with long ago will all turn into smiles on my Phoebe's  wedding-day.

( They are tearfully happy when a knock is heard on the street door. )

PHOEBE.  That knock.

MISS SUSAN.  So dashing.

PHOEBE.  So imperious.  ( She is suddenly panic-stricken. )  Susan, I  think he kissed me once.

MISS SUSAN ( startled ).  You  think ?

PHOEBE.  I know he did.  That evening--a week ago, when he was squiring  me home from the concert.  It was raining, and my face was wet; he said  that was why he did it.

MISS SUSAN.  Because your face was wet?

PHOEBE.  It does not seem a sufficient excuse now.

MISS SUSAN ( appalled ).  O Phoebe, before he had offered.

PHOEBE ( in distress ).  I fear me it was most unladylike.

(VALENTINE BROWN  is shown in.  He is a frank, genial young man of  twenty-five who honestly admires the ladies, though he is amused by  their quaintness.  He is modestly aware that it is in the blue and  white room alone that he is esteemed a wit. )

BROWN.  Miss Susan, how do you do, ma'am?  Nay, Miss Phoebe, though we  have met to-day already I insist on shaking hands with you again.

MISS SUSAN.  Always so dashing.

(VALENTINE  laughs and the ladies exchange delighted smiles. )

VALENTINE ( to  MISS SUSAN).  And my other friends, I hope I find them  in health?  The spinet, ma'am, seems quite herself to-day; I trust the  ottoman passed a good night?

MISS SUSAN ( beaming ).  We are all quite well, sir.

VALENTINE.  May I sit on this chair, Miss Phoebe?  I know Miss Susan  likes me to break her chairs.

MISS SUSAN.  Indeed, sir, I do not.  Phoebe, how strange that he should  think so.

PHOEBE ( instantly ).  The remark was humorous, was it not?

VALENTINE.  How you see through me, Miss Phoebe.

( The sisters again exchange delighted smiles .  VALENTINE  is about to  take a seat. )

MISS SUSAN ( thinking aloud ).  Oh dear, I feel sure he is going to  roll the coverlet into a ball and then sit on it.

(VALENTINE,  who has been on the point of doing so, abstains and sits  guiltily. )

VALENTINE.  So I am dashing, Miss Susan?  Am I dashing, Miss Phoebe?

PHOEBE.  A--little, I think.

VALENTINE.  Well, but I have something to tell you to-day which I  really think is rather dashing.  (MISS SUSAN  gathers her knitting,  looks at  PHOEBE,  and is preparing to go. )  You are not going, ma'am,  before you know what it is?

MISS SUSAN.  I--I--indeed--to be sure--I--I know, Mr. Brown.

PHOEBE.  Susan!

MISS SUSAN.  I mean I do not know.  I mean I can guess--I mean----  Phoebe, my love, explain.  ( She goes out. )

VALENTINE ( rather disappointed ).  The explanation being, I suppose,  that you both know, and I had flattered myself 'twas such a secret.  Am  I then to understand that you had foreseen it all, Miss Phoebe?

PHOEBE.  Nay, sir, you must not ask that.

VALENTINE.  I believe in any case 'twas you who first put it into my  head.

PHOEBE ( aghast ).  Oh, I hope not.

VALENTINE.  Your demure eyes flashed so every time the war was  mentioned; the little Quaker suddenly looked like a gallant boy in  ringlets.

( A dread comes over  PHOEBE,  but it is in her heart alone; it shows  neither in face nor voice. )

PHOEBE.  Mr. Brown, what is it you have to tell us?

VALENTINE.  That I have enlisted, Miss Phoebe.  Did you surmise it was  something else?

PHOEBE.  You are going to the wars?  Mr. Brown, is it a jest?

VALENTINE.  It would be a sorry jest, ma'am.  I thought you knew.  I  concluded that the recruiting sergeant had talked.

PHOEBE.  The recruiting sergeant?  I see.

VALENTINE.  These stirring times, Miss Phoebe--he is but half a man who  stays at home.  I have chafed for months.  I want to see whether I have  any courage, and as to be an army surgeon does not appeal to me, it was  enlist or remain behind.  To-day I found that there were five waverers.  I asked them would they take the shilling if I took it, and they  assented.  Miss Phoebe, it is not one man I give to the King, but six.

PHOEBE ( brightly ).  I think you have done bravely.

VALENTINE.  We leave shortly for the Petersburgh barracks, and I go to  London tomorrow; so this is good-bye.

PHOEBE.  I shall pray that you may be preserved in battle, Mr. Brown.

VALENTINE.  And you and Miss Susan will write to me when occasion  offers?

PHOEBE.  If you wish it.

VALENTINE ( smiling ).  With all the stirring news of Quality Street.

PHOEBE.  It seems stirring to us; it must have been merely laughable to  you, who came here from a great city.

VALENTINE.  Dear Quality Street--that thought me dashing!  But I made  friends in it, Miss Phoebe, of two very sweet ladies.

PHOEBE ( timidly ).  Mr. Brown, I wonder why you have been so kind to  my sister and me?

VALENTINE.  The kindness was yours.  If at first Miss Susan amused me--  ( Chuckling. ) To see her on her knees decorating the little legs of  the couch with frills as if it were a child!  But it was her sterling  qualities that impressed me presently.

PHOEBE.  And did--did I amuse you also?

VALENTINE.  Prodigiously, Miss Phoebe.  Those other ladies, they were  always scolding you, your youthfulness shocked them.  I believe they  thought you dashing.

PHOEBE ( nervously ).  I have sometimes feared that I was perhaps too  dashing.

VALENTINE ( laughing at this ).  You delicious Miss Phoebe.  You were  too quiet.  I felt sorry that one so sweet and young should live so  grey a life.  I wondered whether I could put any little pleasures into  it.

PHOEBE.  The picnics?  It was very good of you.

VALENTINE.  That was only how it began, for soon I knew that it was I  who got the pleasures and you who gave them.  You have been to me, Miss  Phoebe, like a quiet, old-fashioned garden full of the flowers that  Englishmen love best because they have known them longest: the daisy,  that stands for innocence, and the hyacinth for constancy, and the  modest violet and the rose.  When I am far away, ma'am, I shall often  think of Miss Phoebe's pretty soul, which is her garden, and shut my  eyes and walk in it.

( She is smiling gallantly through her pain when  MISS SUSAN  returns. )

MISS SUSAN.  Have you--is it--you seem so calm, Phoebe.

PHOEBE ( pressing her sister's hand warningly and imploringly ).  Susan, what Mr. Brown is so obliging as to inform us of is not what we  expected--not that at all.  My dear, he is the gentleman who has  enlisted, and he came to tell us that and to say good-bye.

MISS SUSAN.  Going away?

PHOEBE.  Yes, dear.

VALENTINE.  Am I not the ideal recruit, ma'am: a man without a wife or  a mother or a sweetheart?

MISS SUSAN.  No sweetheart?

VALENTINE.  Have you one for me, Miss Susan?

PHOEBE ( hastily, lest her sister's face should betray the truth ).  Susan, we shall have to tell him now.  You dreadful man, you will laugh  and say it is just like Quality Street.  But indeed since I met you  to-day and you told me you had something to communicate we have been  puzzling what it could be, and we concluded that you were going to be  married.

VALENTINE.  Ha! ha! ha!  Was that it.

PHOEBE.  So like women, you know.  We thought we perhaps knew her.  ( Glancing at the wedding-gown. )  We were even discussing what we  should wear at the wedding.

VALENTINE.  Ha! ha!  I shall often think of this.  I wonder who would  have me, Miss Susan.  ( Rising. )  But I must be off; and God bless you  both.

MISS SUSAN ( forlorn ).  You are going!

VALENTINE.  No more mud on your carpet, Miss Susan; no more coverlets  rolled into balls.  A good riddance.  Miss Phoebe, a last look at the  garden.

( Taking her hand and looking into her face. )

PHOEBE.  We shall miss you very much, Mr. Brown.

VALENTINE.  There is one little matter.  That investment I advised you  to make, I am happy it has turned out so well.

PHOEBE ( checking  MISS SUSAN,  who is about to tell of the loss of the  money ).  It was good of you to take all that trouble, sir.  Accept our  grateful thanks.

VALENTINE.  Indeed I am glad that you are so comfortably left; I am  your big brother.  Good-bye again.  ( Looks round. )  This little blue  and white room and its dear inmates, may they be unchanged when I come  back.  Good-bye.

( He goes .  MISS SUSAN  looks forlornly at  PHOEBE,  who smiles  pitifully. )

PHOEBE.  A misunderstanding; just a mistake.  ( She shudders, lifts the  wedding-gown and puts it back in the ottoman .  MISS SUSAN  sinks  sobbing into a chair. )  Don't, dear, don't--we can live it down.

MISS SUSAN ( fiercely ).  He is a fiend in human form.

PHOEBE.  Nay, you hurt me, sister.  He is a brave gentleman.

MISS SUSAN.  The money; why did you not let me tell him?

PHOEBE ( flushing ).  So that he might offer to me out of pity, Susan?

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, how are we to live with the quartern loaf at one  and tenpence?

PHOEBE.  Brother James----

MISS SUSAN.  You know very well that brother James will do nothing for  us.

PHOEBE.  I think, Susan, we could keep a little school--for genteel  children only, of course.  I would do most of the teaching.

MISS SUSAN.  You a schoolmistress--Phoebe of the ringlets; every one  would laugh.

PHOEBE.  I shall hide the ringlets away in a cap like yours, Susan, and  people will soon forget them.  And I shall try to look staid and to  grow old quickly.  It will not be so hard to me as you think, dear.

MISS SUSAN.  There were other gentlemen who were attracted by you,  Phoebe, and you turned from them.

PHOEBE.  I did not want them.

MISS SUSAN.  They will come again, and others.

PHOEBE.  No, dear; never speak of that to me any more.  ( In woe. )  I  let him kiss me.

MISS SUSAN.  You could not prevent him.

PHOEBE.  Yes, I could.  I know I could now.  I wanted him to do it.  Oh, never speak to me of others after that.  Perhaps he saw I wanted it  and did it to please me.  But I meant--indeed I did--that I gave it to  him with all my love.  Sister, I could bear all the rest; but I have  been unladylike.

( The curtain falls, and we do not see the sisters again for ten  years. )

End of Act I.

ACT II   THE SCHOOL

Ten years later.  It is the blue and white room still, but many of  Miss Susan's beautiful things have gone, some of them never to return;  others are stored upstairs.  Their place is taken by grim scholastic  furniture: forms, a desk, a globe, a blackboard, heartless maps.  It is  here that Miss Phoebe keeps school.  Miss Susan teaches in the room  opening off it, once the spare bedroom, where there is a smaller  blackboard (for easier sums) but no globe, as Miss Susan is easily  alarmed.  Here are the younger pupils unless they have grown defiant,  when they are promoted to the blue and white room to be under Miss  Phoebe's braver rule.  They really frighten Miss Phoebe also, but she  does not let her sister know this.

It is noon on a day in August, and through the window we can see that  Quality Street is decorated with flags.  We also hear at times martial  music from another street.  Miss Phoebe is giving a dancing lesson to  half a dozen pupils, and is doing her very best; now she is at the  spinet while they dance, and again she is showing them the new step.  We know it is Miss Phoebe because some of her pretty airs and graces  still cling to her in a forlorn way, but she is much changed.  Her  curls are out of sight under a cap, her manner is prim, the light has  gone from her eyes and buoyancy from her figure; she looks not ten  years older but twenty, and not an easy twenty.  When the children are  not looking at her we know that she has the headache.

PHOEBE ( who is sometimes at the spinet and sometimes dancing ).  Toes  out.  So.  Chest out.  Georgy.  Point your toes, Miss Beveridge--so.  So--keep in line; and young ladies, remember your toes.  (GEORGY  in  his desire to please has protruded the wrong part of his person.  She  writes a C on his chest with chalk. )  C stands for chest, Georgy.  This is S.

(MISS SUSAN  darts out of the other room.  She is less worn than  MISS  PHOEBE.)

MISS SUSAN ( whispering so that the pupils may not hear ).  Phoebe, how  many are fourteen and seventeen?

PHOEBE ( almost instantly ).  Thirty-one.

MISS SUSAN.  I thank you.  ( She darts off. )

PHOEBE.  That will do, ladies and gentlemen.  You may go.

( They bow or curtsy, and retire to  MISS SUSAN'S  room, with the  exception of  ARTHUR WELLESLEY TOMSON,  who is standing in disgrace in  a corner with the cap of shame on his head, and  ISABELLA,  a  forbidding-looking, learned little girl .  ISABELLA  holds up her hand  for permission to speak. )

ISABELLA.  Please, ma'am, father wishes me to acquire algebra.

PHOEBE ( with a sinking ).  Algebra!  It--it is not a very ladylike  study, Isabella.

ISABELLA.  Father says, will you or won't you?

PHOEBE.  And you are thin.  It will make you thinner, my dear.

ISABELLA.  Father says I am thin but wiry.

PHOEBE.  Yes, you are.  ( With feeling. )  You are very wiry, Isabella.

ISABELLA.  Father says, either I acquire algebra or I go to Miss  Prothero's establishment.

PHOEBE.  Very well, I--I will do my best.  You may go.

(ISABELLA  goes and  PHOEBE  sits wearily. )

ARTHUR ( fingering his cap ).  Please, ma'am, may I take it off now?

PHOEBE.  Certainly not.  Unhappy boy---- (ARTHUR  grins. )  Come here.  Are you ashamed of yourself?

ARTHUR ( blithely ).  No, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( in a terrible voice ).  Arthur Wellesley Tomson, fetch me the  implement.  (ARTHUR  goes briskly for the cane, and she hits the desk  with it. )  Arthur, surely that terrifies you?

ARTHUR.  No, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  Arthur, why did you fight with that street boy?

ARTHUR.  'Cos he said that when you caned you did not draw blood.

PHOEBE.  But I don't, do I?

ARTHUR.  No, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  Then why fight him?  ( Remembering how strange boys are. )  Was it for the honour of the school?

ARTHUR.  Yes, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  Say you are sorry, Arthur, and I won't punish you.

( He bursts into tears. )

ARTHUR.  You promised to cane me, and now you are not going to do it.

PHOEBE ( incredulous ).  Do you wish to be caned?

ARTHUR ( holding out his hand eagerly ).  If you please, Miss Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  Unnatural boy.  ( She canes him in a very unprofessional  manner. )  Poor dear boy.

( She kisses the hand. )

ARTHUR ( gloomily ).  Oh, ma'am, you will never be able to cane if you  hold it like that.  You should hold it like this, Miss Phoebe, and give  it a wriggle like that.

( She is too soft-hearted to follow his instructions. )

PHOEBE ( almost in tears ).  Go away.

ARTHUR ( remembering that women are strange ).  Don't cry, ma'am; I  love you, Miss Phoebe.

( She seats him on her knee, and he thinks of a way to please her. )

If any boy says you can't cane I will blood him, Miss Phoebe.

(PHOEBE  shudders, and  MISS SUSAN  again darts in.  She signs to   PHOEBE  to send  ARTHUR  away. )

MISS SUSAN ( as soon as  ARTHUR  has gone ).  Phoebe, if a herring and  a half cost three ha'pence, how many for elevenpence?

PHOEBE ( instantly ).  Eleven.

MISS SUSAN.  William Smith says it is fifteen; and he is such a big  boy, do you think I ought to contradict him?  May I say there are  differences of opinion about it?  No one can be really sure, Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  It is eleven.  I once worked it out with real herrings.  ( Stoutly. )  Susan, we must never let the big boys know that we are  afraid of them.  To awe them, stamp with the foot, speak in a ferocious  voice, and look them unflinchingly in the face.  ( Then she pales. )  Oh, Susan, Isabella's father insists on her acquiring algebra.

MISS SUSAN.  What is algebra exactly; is it those three cornered things?

PHOEBE.  It is  x  minus  y  equals  z  plus  y  and things like that.  And all the time you are saying they are equal, you feel in your heart,  why should they be.

( The music of the band swells here, and both ladies put their hands to  their ears. )

It is the band for to-night's ball.  We must not grudge their  rejoicings, Susan.  It is not every year that there is a Waterloo to  celebrate.

MISS SUSAN.  I was not thinking of that.  I was thinking that he is to  be at the ball to-night; and we have not seen him for ten years.

PHOEBE ( calmly ).  Yes, ten years.  We shall be glad to welcome our  old friend back, Susan.  I am going in to your room now to take the  Latin class.

( A soldier with a girl passes--a yokel follows angrily. )

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, that weary Latin, I wish I had the whipping of the man  who invented it.

( She returns to her room, and the sound of the music dies away .  MISS  PHOEBE,  who is not a very accomplished classical scholar, is taking a  final peep at the declensions when  MISS SUSAN  reappears excitedly. )

PHOEBE.  What is it?

MISS SUSAN ( tragically ).  William Smith!  Phoebe, I tried to look  ferocious, indeed I did, but he saw I was afraid, and before the whole  school he put out his tongue at me.

PHOEBE.  Susan!

( She is lion-hearted; she remembers  ARTHUR'S  instructions, and  practises with the cane. )

MISS SUSAN ( frightened ).  Phoebe, he is much too big.  Let it pass.

PHOEBE.  If I let it pass I am a stumbling-block in the way of true  education.

MISS SUSAN.  Sister.

PHOEBE ( grandly ).  Susan, stand aside.

( Giving the cane  ARTHUR'S  most telling flick, she marches into the  other room.  Then, while  MISS SUSAN  is listening nervously , CAPTAIN  VALENTINE BROWN  is ushered in by  PATTY.   He is bronzed and  soldierly.  He wears the whiskers of the period, and is in uniform.  He  has lost his left hand, but this is not at first noticeable. )

PATTY.  Miss Susan, 'tis Captain Brown!

MISS SUSAN.  Captain Brown!

VALENTINE ( greeting her warmly ).  Reports himself at home again.

MISS SUSAN ( gratified ).  You call this home?

VALENTINE.  When the other men talked of their homes, Miss Susan, I  thought of this room.  ( Looking about him. )  Maps--desks--heigho!  But still it is the same dear room.  I have often dreamt, Miss Susan,  that I came back to it in muddy shoes.  ( Seeing her alarm. )  I have  not, you know!  Miss Susan, I rejoice to find no change in you; and  Miss Phoebe--Miss Phoebe of the ringlets--I hope there be as little  change in her?

MISS SUSAN ( painfully ).  Phoebe of the ringlets!  Ah, Captain Brown,  you need not expect to see her.

VALENTINE.  She is not here?  I vow it spoils all my home-coming.

( At this moment the door of the other room is filing open and  PHOEBE   rushes out, followed by  WILLIAM SMITH  who is brandishing the cane .  VALENTINE  takes in the situation, and without looking at  PHOEBE   seizes  WILLIAM  by the collar and marches him out of the school. )

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, did you see who it is?

PHOEBE.  I saw.  ( In a sudden tremor. ) Susan, I have lost all my  looks.

( The pupils are crowding in from  MISS SUSAN'S  room and she orders  them back and goes with them .  VALENTINE  returns, and speaks as he  enters, not recognising  PHOEBE,  whose back is to him. )

VALENTINE.  A young reprobate, madam, but I have deposited him on the  causeway.  I fear--

( He stops, puzzled because the lady has covered her face with her  hands. )

PHOEBE.  Captain Brown.

VALENTINE.  Miss Phoebe, it is you?

( He goes to her, but he cannot help showing that her appearance is a  shock to him. )

PHOEBE ( without bitterness ).  Yes, I have changed very much, I have  not worn well, Captain Brown.

VALENTINE ( awkwardly ).  We--we are both older, Miss Phoebe.

( He holds out his hand warmly, with affected high spirits. )

PHOEBE ( smiling reproachfully ).  It was both hands when you went  away.  ( He has to show that his left hand is gone; she is overcome. )  I did not know.  ( She presses the empty sleeve in remorse. )  You  never mentioned it in your letters.

VALENTINE ( now grown rather stern ).  Miss Phoebe, what did you omit  from your letters that you had such young blackguards as that to  terrify you?

PHOEBE.  He is the only one.  Most of them are dear children; and this  is the last day of the term.

VALENTINE.  Ah, ma'am, if only you had invested all your money as you  laid out part by my advice.  What a monstrous pity you did not.

PHOEBE.  We never thought of it.

VALENTINE.  You look so tired.

PHOEBE.  I have the headache to-day.

VALENTINE.  You did not use to have the headache.  Curse those dear  children.

PHOEBE ( bravely ).  Nay, do not distress yourself about me.  Tell me  of yourself.  We are so proud of the way in which you won your  commission.  Will you leave the army now?

VALENTINE.  Yes; and I have some intention of pursuing again the old  life in Quality Street.  ( He is not a man who has reflected much.  He  has come back thinking that all the adventures have been his, and that  the old life in Quality Street has waited, as in a sleep, to be resumed  on the day of his return. )  I came here in such high spirits, Miss  Phoebe.

PHOEBE ( with a wry smile ).  The change in me depresses you.

VALENTINE.  I was in hopes that you and Miss Susan would be going to  the ball.  I had brought cards for you with me to make sure.

( She is pleased and means to accept.  He sighs, and she understands  that he thinks her too old. )

PHOEBE.  But now you see that my dancing days are done.

VALENTINE ( uncomfortably ).  Ah, no.

PHOEBE ( taking care he shall not see that he has hurt her ).  But you  will find many charming partners.  Some of them have been my pupils.  There was even a pupil of mine who fought at Waterloo.

VALENTINE.  Young Blades; I have heard him on it.  ( She puts her hand  wearily to her head ).  Miss Phoebe--what a dull grey world it is!

( She turns away to hide her emotion, and  MISS SUSAN  comes in. )

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, I have said that you will not take the Latin class  to-day, and I am dismissing them.

VALENTINE.  Latin?

PHOEBE ( rather defiantly ).  I am proud to teach it.  ( Breaking  down. )  Susan--his arm--have you seen?

(MISS SUSAN  also is overcome, but recovers as the children crowd in. )

MISS SUSAN.  Hats off, gentlemen salute, ladies curtsy--to the brave  Captain Brown.

(CAPTAIN BROWN  salutes them awkwardly, and they cheer him, to his  great discomfort, as they pass out. )

VALENTINE ( when they have gone ).  A terrible ordeal, ma'am.

( The old friends look at each other, and there is a silence .  VALENTINE  feels that all the fine tales and merry jests he has brought  back for the ladies have turned into dead things.  He wants to go away  and think. )

PHOEBE.  I wish you very happy at the ball.

VALENTINE ( sighing ).  Miss Susan, cannot we turn all these maps and  horrors out till the vacation is over?

MISS SUSAN.  Indeed, sir, we always do.  By to-morrow this will be my  dear blue and white room again, and that my sweet spare bedroom.

PHOEBE.  For five weeks!

VALENTINE ( making vain belief ).  And then--the--the dashing Mr. Brown  will drop in as of old, and, behold, Miss Susan on her knees once more  putting tucks into my little friend the ottoman, and Miss Phoebe---Miss  Phoebe----

PHOEBE.  Phoebe of the ringlets!

( She goes out quietly. )

VALENTINE ( miserably ).  Miss Susan, what a shame it is.

MISS SUSAN ( hotly ).  Yes, it is a shame.

VALENTINE ( suddenly become more of a man ).  The brave Captain Brown!  Good God, ma'am, how much more brave are the ladies who keep a school.

(PATTY  shows in two visitors,  MISS CHARLOTTE PARRATT  and  ENSIGN  BLADES.  CHARLOTTE  is a pretty minx who we are glad to say does not  reside in Quality Street, and  BLADES  is a callow youth, inviting  admiration. )

CHARLOTTE ( as they salute ).  But I did not know you had company, Miss  Susan.

MISS SUSAN.  'Tis Captain Brown--Miss Charlotte Parratt.

CHARLOTTE ( gushing ).  The heroic Brown?

VALENTINE.  Alas, no, ma'am, the other one.

CHARLOTTE.  Miss Susan, do you see who accompanies me?

MISS SUSAN.  I cannot quite recall----

BLADES.  A few years ago, ma'am, there sat in this room a scrubby, inky  little boy--I was that boy.

MISS SUSAN.  Can it be our old pupil--Ensign Blades?

( She thinks him very fine, and he bows, well pleased. )

BLADES.  Once a little boy and now your most obedient, ma'am.

MISS SUSAN.  You have come to recall old memories?

BLADES.  Not precisely; I--Charlotte, explain.

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign Blades wishes me to say that it must seem highly  romantic to you to have had a pupil who has fought at Waterloo.

MISS SUSAN.  Not exactly romantic.  I trust, sir, that when you speak  of having been our pupil you are also so obliging as to mention that it  was during our first year.  Otherwise it makes us seem so elderly.

( He bows again, in what he believes to be a quizzical manner. )

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign Blades would be pleased to hear, Miss Susan, what  you think of him as a whole.

MISS SUSAN.  Indeed, sir, I think you are monstrous fine.  ( Innocently. )  It quite awes me to remember that we used to whip him.

VALENTINE ( delighted ).  Whipped him, Miss Susan!  ( In solemn  burlesque of  CHARLOTTE.) Ensign Blades wishes to indicate that it was  more than Buonaparte could do.  We shall meet again, bright boy.

( He makes his adieux and goes. )

BLADES.  Do you think he was quizzing me?

MISS SUSAN ( simply ).  I cannot think so.

BLADES.  He said 'bright boy,' ma'am.

MISS SUSAN.  I am sure, sir, he did not mean it.

(PHOEBE  returns. )

PHOEBE.  Charlotte, I am happy to see you.  You look delicious, my  dear--so young and fresh.

CHARLOTTE.  La!  Do you think so, Miss Phoebe?

BLADES.  Miss Phoebe, your obedient.

PHOEBE.  It is Ensign Blades!  But how kind of you, sir, to revisit the  old school.  Please to sit down.

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign Blades has a favour to ask of you, Miss Phoebe.

BLADES.  I learn, ma'am, that Captain Brown has obtained a card for you  for the ball, and I am here to solicit for the honour of standing up  with you.

( For the moment  PHOEBE  is flattered.  Here, she believes, is some  one who does not think her too old for the dance.  Then she perceives a  meaning smile pass between  CHARLOTTE  and the  ENSIGN.)

PHOEBE ( paling ).  Is it that you desire to make sport of me?

BLADES ( honestly distressed ).  Oh no, ma'am, I vow--but I--I am such  a quiz, ma'am.

MISS SUSAN.  Sister!

PHOEBE.  I am sorry, sir, to have to deprive you of some entertainment,  but I am not going to the ball.

MISS SUSAN ( haughtily ).  Ensign Blades, I bid you my adieux.

BLADES ( ashamed ).  If I have hurt Miss Phoebe's feelings I beg to  apologise.

MISS SUSAN.   If  you have hurt them.  Oh, sir, how is it possible for  any one to be as silly as you seem to be.

BLADES ( who cannot find the answer ).  Charlotte--explain.

( But  CHARLOTTE  considers that their visit has not been sufficiently  esteemed and departs with a cold curtsy, taking him with her. )

(MISS SUSAN  turns sympathetically to  PHOEBE,  but  PHOEBE,  fighting  with her pain, sits down at the spinet and plays at first excitedly a  gay tune, then slowly, then comes to a stop with her head bowed.  Soon  she jumps up courageously, brushes away her distress, gets an algebra  book from the desk and sits down to study it .  MISS SUSAN  is at the  window, where ladies and gentlemen are now seen passing in ball  attire. )

MISS SUSAN.  What book is it, Phoebe?

PHOEBE.  It is an algebra.

MISS SUSAN.  They are going by to the ball.  ( In anger. )  My Phoebe  should be going to the ball, too.

PHOEBE.  You jest, Susan.  (MISS SUSAN  watches her read .  PHOEBE  has  to wipe away a tear; soon she rises and gives way to the emotion she  has been suppressing ever since the entrance of  VALENTINE.)  Susan, I  hate him.  Oh, Susan, I could hate him if it were not for his poor hand.

MISS SUSAN.  My dear.

PHOEBE.  He thought I was old, because I am weary, and he should not  have forgotten.  I am only thirty.  Susan, why does thirty seem so much  more than twenty-nine?  ( As if  VALENTINE  were present. )  Oh, sir,  how dare you look so pityingly at me?  Because I have had to work so  hard,--is it a crime when a woman works?  Because I have tried to be  courageous--have I been courageous, Susan?

MISS SUSAN.  God knows you have.

PHOEBE.  But it has given me the headache, it has tired my eyes.  Alas,  Miss Phoebe, all your charm has gone, for you have the headache, and  your eyes are tired.  He is dancing with Charlotte Parratt now, Susan.  'I vow, Miss Charlotte, you are selfish and silly, but you are sweet  eighteen.'  'Oh la, Captain Brown, what a quiz you are.'  That delights  him, Susan; see how he waggles his silly head.

MISS SUSAN.  Charlotte Parratt is a goose.

PHOEBE.  'Tis what gentlemen prefer.  If there were a sufficient number  of geese to go round, Susan, no woman of sense would ever get a  husband.  'Charming Miss Charlotte, you are like a garden; Miss Phoebe  was like a garden once, but 'tis a faded garden now.'

MISS SUSAN.  If to be ladylike----

PHOEBE.  Susan, I am tired of being ladylike.  I am a young woman  still, and to be ladylike is not enough.  I wish to be bright and  thoughtless and merry.  It is every woman's birthright to be petted and  admired; I wish to be petted and admired.  Was I born to be confined  within these four walls?  Are they the world, Susan, or is there  anything beyond them?  I want to know.  My eyes are tired because for  ten years they have seen nothing but maps and desks.  Ten years!  Ten  years ago I went to bed a young girl and I woke with this cap on my  head.  It is not fair.  This is not me, Susan, this is some other  person, I want to be myself.

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, Phoebe, you who have always been so patient!

PHOEBE.  Oh no, not always.  If you only knew how I have rebelled at  times, you would turn from me in horror.  Susan, I have a picture of  myself as I used to be; I sometimes look at it.  I sometimes kiss it,  and say, 'Poor girl, they have all forgotten you.  But I remember.'

MISS SUSAN.  I cannot recall it.

PHOEBE.  I keep it locked away in my room.  Would you like to see it?  I shall bring it down.  My room!  Oh, Susan, it is there that the  Phoebe you think so patient has the hardest fight with herself, for  there I have seemed to hear and see the Phoebe of whom this ( looking  at herself ) is but an image in a distorted glass.  I have heard her  singing as if she thought she was still a girl.  I have heard her  weeping; perhaps it was only I who was weeping; but she seemed to cry  to me, 'Let me out of this prison, give me back the years you have  taken from me.  Oh, where are my pretty curls?' she cried.  'Where is  my youth, my youth.'

( She goes out, leaving  MISS SUSAN  woeful.  Presently  SUSAN  takes  up the algebra book and reads. )

MISS SUSAN.  'A stroke B multiplied by B stroke C equal AB stroke a  little 2; stroke AC add BC.  "Poor Phoebe!"  Multiply by C stroke A and  we get--  Poor Phoebe!  C a B stroke a little 2 stroke AC little 2 add  BC.  "Oh, I cannot believe it!" Stroke a little 2 again, add AB little  2 add a little 2C stroke a BC.' ...

(PATTY  comes in with the lamp. )

PATTY.  Hurting your poor eyes reading without a lamp.  Think shame,  Miss Susan.

MISS SUSAN ( with spirit ).  Patty, I will not be dictated to.  (PATTY   looks out at window. ) Draw the curtains at once.  I cannot allow you  to stand gazing at the foolish creatures who crowd to a ball.

PATTY ( closing curtains ).  I am not gazing at them, ma'am; I am  gazing at my sweetheart.

MISS SUSAN.  Your sweetheart?  ( Softly. )  I did not know you had one.

PATTY.  Nor have I, ma'am, as yet.  But I looks out, and thinks I to  myself, at any moment he may turn the corner.  I ha' been looking out  at windows waiting for him to oblige by turning the corner this fifteen  years.

MISS SUSAN.  Fifteen years, and still you are hopeful?

PATTY.  There is not a more hopeful woman in all the king's dominions.

MISS SUSAN.  You who are so much older than Miss Phoebe.

PATTY.  Yes, ma'am, I ha' the advantage of her by ten years.

MISS SUSAN.  It would be idle to pretend that you are specially comely.

PATTY.  That may be, but my face is my own, and the more I see it in  the glass the more it pleases me.  I never look at it but I say to  myself, 'Who is to be the lucky man?'

MISS SUSAN.  'Tis wonderful.

PATTY.  This will be a great year for females, ma'am.  Think how many  of the men that marched away strutting to the wars have come back  limping.  Who is to take off their wooden legs of an evening, Miss  Susan?  You, ma'am, or me?

MISS SUSAN.  Patty!

PATTY ( doggedly ).  Or Miss Phoebe?  ( With feeling. )  The pretty  thing that she was, Miss Susan.

MISS SUSAN.  Do you remember, Patty?  I think there is no other person  who remembers unless it be the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta.

PATTY ( eagerly ).  Give her a chance, ma'am, and take her to the  balls.  There be three of them this week, and the last ball will be the  best, for 'tis to be at the barracks, and you will need a carriage to  take you there, and there will be the packing of you into it by gallant  squires and the unpacking of you out, and other devilries.

MISS SUSAN.  Patty!

PATTY.  If Miss Phoebe were to dress young again and put candles in her  eyes that used to be so bright, and coax back her curls--

(PHOEBE  returns, and a great change has come over her.  She is young  and pretty again.  She is wearing the wedding-gown of  ACT I.,  her  ringlets are glorious, her figure youthful, her face flushed and  animated .  PATTY  is the first to see her, and is astonished .  PHOEBE   signs to her to go. )

PHOEBE ( when  PATTY  has gone ).  Susan.  (MISS SUSAN  sees and is  speechless. )  Susan, this is the picture of my old self that I keep  locked away in my room, and sometimes take out of its box to look at.  This is the girl who kisses herself in the glass and sings and dances  with glee until I put her away frightened lest you should hear her.

MISS SUSAN.  How marvellous!  Oh, Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  Perhaps I should not do it, but it is so easy.  I have but to  put on the old wedding-gown and tumble my curls out of the cap.  ( Passionately. )  Sister, am I as changed as he says I am?

MISS SUSAN.  You almost frighten me.

( The band is heard. )

PHOEBE.  The music is calling to us.  Susan, I will celebrate Waterloo  in a little ball of my own.  See, my curls have begun to dance, they  are so anxious to dance.  One dance, Susan, to Phoebe of the ringlets,  and then I will put her away in her box and never look at her again.  Ma'am, may I have the honour?  Nay, then I shall dance alone.  ( She  dances. )  Oh, Susan, I almost wish I were a goose.

( Presently  PATTY  returns.  She gazes at  MISS PHOEBE  dancing. )

PATTY.  Miss Phoebe!

PHOEBE ( still dancing ).  Not Miss Phoebe, Patty.  I am not myself  to-night, I am--let me see, I am my niece.

PATTY ( in a whisper to  SUSAN).  But Miss Susan, 'tis Captain Brown.

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, stop, Phoebe, stop!

PATTY.  Nay, let him see her!

(MISS SUSAN  hurries scandalised into the other room as  VALENTINE   enters. )

VALENTINE.  I ventured to come back because---- (PHOEBE  turns to  him--he stops abruptly, bewildered. )  I beg your pardon, madam, I  thought it was Miss Susan or Miss Phoebe.

( His mistake surprises her, but she is in a wild mood and curtsies,  then turns away and smiles.  He stares as if half-convinced. )

PATTY ( with an inspiration ).  'Tis my mistresses' niece, sir; she is  on a visit here.

( He is deceived.  He bows gallantly, then remembers the object of his  visit.  He produces a bottle of medicine. )

VALENTINE.  Patty, I obtained this at the apothecary's for Miss  Phoebe's headache.  It should be taken at once.

PATTY.  Miss Phoebe is lying down, sir.

VALENTINE.  Is she asleep?

PATTY ( demurely ).  No, sir, I think she be wide awake.

VALENTINE.  It may soothe her.

PHOEBE.  Patty, take it to Aunt Phoebe at once.

( PATTY goes out sedately with the medicine. )

VALENTINE ( after a little awkwardness, which  PHOEBE  enjoys ).  Perhaps I may venture to present myself, Miss--Miss----?

PHOEBE.  Miss--Livvy, sir.

VALENTINE.  I am Captain Brown, Miss Livvy, an old friend of both your  aunts.

PHOEBE ( curtsying ).  I have heard them speak of a dashing Mr. Brown.  But I think it cannot be the same.

VALENTINE ( a little chagrined ).  Why not, ma'am?

PHOEBE.  I ask your pardon, sir.

VALENTINE, I was sure you must be related.  Indeed, for a moment the  likeness--even the voice----

PHOEBE ( pouting ).  La, sir, you mean I am like Aunt Phoebe.  Every  one says so--and indeed 'tis no compliment.

VALENTINE.  'Twould have been a compliment once.  You must be a  daughter of the excellent Mr. James Throssel who used to reside at  Great Buckland.

PHOEBE.  He is still there.

VALENTINE.  A tedious twenty miles from here, as I remember.

PHOEBE.  La! I have found the journey a monstrous quick one, sir.

( The band is again heard.  She runs to the window to peep between the  curtains, and his eyes follow her admiringly. )

VALENTINE ( eagerly ).  Miss Livvy, you go to the ball?

PHOEBE.  Alas, sir, I have no card.

VALENTINE.  I have two cards for your aunts.  As Miss Phoebe has the  headache, your Aunt Susan must take you to the ball.

PHOEBE.  Oh, oh!  ( Her feet move to the music. )  Sir, I cannot  control my feet.

VALENTINE.  They are already at the ball, ma'am; you must follow them.

PHOEBE ( with all the pent-up mischief of ten years ).  Oh, sir, do you  think some pretty gentleman might be partial to me at the ball?

VALENTINE.  If that is your wish----

PHOEBE.  I should love, sir, to inspire frenzy in the breast of the  male.  ( With sudden collapse. )  I dare not go--I dare not.

VALENTINE.  Miss Livvy, I vow----

( He turns eagerly to  MISS SUSAN,  who enters. )

I have ventured, Miss Susan, to introduce myself to your charming niece.

(MISS SUSAN  would like to run away again, but the wicked  MISS PHOEBE   is determined to have her help. )

PHOEBE.  Aunt Susan, do not be angry with your Livvy--your Livvy, Aunt  Susan.  This gentleman says he is the dashing Mr. Brown, he has cards  for us for the ball, Auntie.  Of course we cannot go--we dare not go.  Oh, Auntie, hasten into your bombazine.

MISS SUSAN ( staggered ).  Phoebe----

PHOEBE.  Aunt Phoebe wants me to go.  If I say she does you know she  does!

MISS SUSAN.  But my dear, my dear.

PHOEBE.  Oh, Auntie, why do you talk so much.  Come, come.

VALENTINE.  I shall see to it, Miss Susan, that your niece has a  charming ball.

PHOEBE.  He means he will find me sweet partners.

VALENTINE.  Nay, ma'am, I mean  I  shall be your partner.

PHOEBE ( who is not an angel ).  Aunt Susan, he still dances!

VALENTINE.   Still , ma'am?

PHOEBE.  Oh, sir, you are indeed dashing.  Nay, sir, please not to  scowl, I could not avoid noticing them.

VALENTINE.  Noticing what, Miss Livvy?

PHOEBE.  The grey hairs, sir.

VALENTINE.  I vow, ma'am, there is not one in my head.

PHOEBE.  He is such a quiz.  I so love a quiz.

VALENTINE.  Then, ma'am, I shall do nothing but quiz you at the ball.  Miss Susan, I beg you--

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, sir, dissuade her.

VALENTINE.  Nay, I entreat.

PHOEBE.  Auntie!

MISS SUSAN.  Think, my dear, think, we dare not.

PHOEBE ( shuddering ).  No, we dare not, I cannot go.

VALENTINE.  Indeed, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  'Tis impossible.

( She really means it, and had not the music here taken an unfair  advantage of her it is certain that  MISS PHOEBE  would never have gone  to the ball.  In after years she and  MISS SUSAN  would have talked  together of the monstrous evening when she nearly lost her head, but  regained it before it could fall off.  But suddenly the music swells so  alluringly that it is a thousand fingers beckoning her to all the balls  she has missed, and in a transport she whirls  MISS SUSAN  from the  blue and white room to the bed-chamber where is the bombazine .  VALENTINE  awaits their return like a conqueror, until  MISS LIVVY'S   words about his hair return to trouble him.  He is stooping, gazing  intently into a small mirror, extracting the grey hairs one by one,  when  PATTY  ushers in the sisters  WILLOUGHBY  and  MISS HENRIETTA.  MISS HENRIETTA  is wearing the new veil, which opens or closes like  curtains when she pulls a string.  She opens it now to see what he is  doing, and the slight sound brings him to his feet. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  'Tis but the new veil, sir; there is no cause for  alarm.

( They have already learned from  PATTY,  we may be sure, that he is in  the house, but they express genteel surprise. )

MISS FANNY.  Mary, surely we are addressing the gallant Captain Brown!

VALENTINE.  It is the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta.  'Tis  indeed a gratification to renew acquaintance with such elegant and  respectable females.

( The greetings are elaborate. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  You have seen Miss Phoebe, sir?

VALENTINE.  I have had the honour.  Miss Phoebe, I regret to say, is  now lying down with the headache.  ( The ladies are too delicately  minded to exchange glances before a man, but they are privately of  opinion that this meeting after ten years with the dazzling  BROWN  has  laid  MISS PHOEBE  low.  They are in a twitter of sympathy with her,  and yearning to see  MISS SUSAN  alone, so that they may draw from her  an account of the exciting meeting. )  You do not favour the ball  to-night?

MISS FANNY.  I confess balls are distasteful to me.

MISS HENRIETTA.  'Twill be a mixed assembly.  I am credibly informed  that the woollen draper's daughter has obtained a card.

VALENTINE ( gravely ).  Good God, ma'am, is it possible?

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  We shall probably spend the evening here with Miss  Susan at the card table.

VALENTINE.  But Miss Susan goes with me to the ball, ma'am.

( This is scarcely less exciting to them than the overthrow of the  Corsican. )

VALENTINE.  Nay, I hope there be no impropriety.  Miss Livvy will  accompany her.

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( bewildered ).  Miss Livvy?

VALENTINE.  Their charming niece.

( The ladies repeat the word in a daze. )

MISS FANNY.  They had not apprised us that they have a visitor.

( They think this reticence unfriendly, and are wondering whether they  ought not to retire hurt, when  MISS SUSAN  enters in her bombazine,  wraps, and bonnet.  She starts at sight of them, and has the bearing of  a guilty person. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( stiffly ).  We have but now been advertised of your  intention for this evening, Susan.

MISS HENRIETTA.  We deeply regret our intrusion.

MISS SUSAN ( wistfully ).  Please not to be piqued, Mary.  'Twas  so--sudden.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  I cannot remember, Susan, that your estimable brother  had a daughter.  I thought all the three were sons.

MISS SUSAN ( with deplorable readiness ).  Three sons and a daughter.  Surely you remember little Livvy, Mary?

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( bluntly ).  No, Susan, I do not.

MISS SUSAN.  I--I must go.  I hear Livvy calling.

MISS FANNY ( tartly ).  I hear nothing but the band.  We are not to see  your niece?

MISS SUSAN.  Another time--to-morrow.  Pray rest a little before you  depart, Mary.  I--I--Phoebe Livvy--the headache----

( But before she can go another lady enters gaily. )

VALENTINE.  Ah, here is Miss Livvy.

( The true culprit is more cunning than  MISS SUSAN,  and before they  can see her she quickly pulls the strings of her bonnet, which is like   MISS HENRIETTA'S,  and it obscures her face. )

MISS SUSAN.  This--this is my niece, Livvy--Miss Willoughby, Miss  Henrietta, Miss Fanny Willoughby.

VALENTINE.  Ladies, excuse my impatience, but--

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  One moment, sir.  May I ask, Miss Livvy, how many  brothers you have.

PHOEBE.  Two.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  I thank you.

( She looks strangely at  MISS SUSAN,  and  MISS PHOEBE  knows that she  has blundered. )

PHOEBE ( at a venture ).  Excluding the unhappy Thomas.

MISS SUSAN ( clever for the only moment in her life ).  We never  mention him.

( They are swept away on the arms of the impatient  CAPTAIN.)

MISS WILLOUGHBY, MISS HENRIETTA, AND MISS FANNY.  What has Thomas done?

( They have no suspicion as yet of what  MISS PHOEBE  has done; but  they believe there is a scandal in the Throssel family, and they will  not sleep happily until they know what it is. )

End of Act II.

ACT III   THE BALL

A ball, but not the one to which we have seen Miss Susan and Miss  Phoebe rush forth upon their career of crime.  This is the third of the  series, the one of which Patty has foretold with horrid relish that it  promises to be specially given over to devilries.  The scene is a  canvas pavilion, used as a retiring room and for card play, and through  an opening in the back we have glimpses of gay uniforms and fair ladies  intermingled in the bravery of the dance.  There is coming and going  through this opening, and also through slits in the canvas.  The  pavilion is fantastically decorated in various tastes, and is lit with  lanterns.  A good-natured moon, nevertheless, shines into it benignly.  Some of the card tables are neglected, but at one a game of quadrille  is in progress.  There is much movement and hilarity, but none from one  side of the tent, where sit several young ladies, all pretty, all  appealing and all woeful, for no gallant comes to ask them if he may  have the felicity.  The nervous woman chaperoning them, and afraid to  meet their gaze lest they scowl or weep in reply, is no other than Miss  Susan, the most unhappy Miss Susan we have yet seen; she sits there  gripping her composure in both hands.  Far less susceptible to shame is  the brazen Phoebe, who may be seen passing the opening on the arm of a  cavalier, and flinging her trembling sister a mischievous kiss.  The  younger ladies note the incident; alas, they are probably meant to  notice it, and they cower, as under a blow.

HARRIET ( a sad-eyed, large girl, who we hope found a romance at her  next ball ).  Are we so disagreeable that no one will dance with us?  Miss Susan, 'tis infamous; they have eyes for no one but your niece.

CHARLOTTE.  Miss Livvy has taken Ensign Blades from me.

HARRIET.  If Miss Phoebe were here, I am sure she would not allow her  old pupils to be so neglected.

( The only possible reply for  MISS SUSAN  is to make herself look as  small as possible.  A lieutenant comes to them, once a scorner of  woman, but now  SPICER  the bewitched .  HARRIET  has a moment's hope. )

How do you do, sir?

SPICER ( with dreadful indifference, though she is his dear cousin ).  Nay, ma'am, how do you do?  ( Wistfully. )  May I stand beside you,  Miss Susan?

( He is a most melancholic young man, and he fidgets her. )

MISS SUSAN ( with spirit ).  You have been standing beside me, sir,  nearly all the evening.  SPICER ( humbly.  It is strange to think that  he had been favourably mentioned in despatches ).  Indeed, I cannot but  be cognisant of the sufferings I cause by attaching myself to you in  this unseemly manner.  Accept my assurances, ma'am, that you have my  deepest sympathy.

MISS SUSAN.  Then why do you do it?

SPICER.  Because you are her aunt, ma'am.  It is a scheme of mine by  which I am in hopes to soften her heart.  Her affection for you, ma'am,  is beautiful to observe, and if she could be persuaded that I seek her  hand from a passionate desire to have you for my Aunt Susan--do you  perceive anything hopeful in my scheme, ma'am?

MISS SUSAN.  No, sir, I do not.

(SPICER  wanders away gloomily, takes too much to drink, and ultimately  becomes a general .  ENSIGN BLADES  appears, frowning, and  CHARLOTTE   ventures to touch his sleeve. )

CHARLOTTE.  Ensign Blades, I have not danced with you once this evening.

BLADES ( with the cold brutality of a lover to another she ).  Nor I  with you, Charlotte.  ( To  SUSAN.)  May I solicit of you, Miss Susan,  is Captain Brown Miss Livvy's guardian; is he affianced to her?

MISS SUSAN.  No, sir.

BLADES.  Then by what right, ma'am, does he interfere?  Your elegant  niece had consented to accompany me to the shrubbery--to look at the  moon.  And now Captain Brown forbids it.  'Tis unendurable.

CHARLOTTE.  But you may see the moon from here, sir.

BLADES ( glancing at it contemptuously ).  I believe not, ma'am.  ( The  moon still shines on. )

MISS SUSAN ( primly ).  I am happy Captain Brown forbade her.

BLADES.  Miss Susan, 'twas but because he is to conduct her to the  shrubbery himself.

( He flings out pettishly, and  MISS SUSAN  looks pityingly at the  wall-flowers. )

MISS SUSAN.  My poor Charlotte!  May I take you to some very agreeable  ladies?

CHARLOTTE ( tartly ).  No, you may not.  I am going to the shrubbery to  watch Miss Livvy.

MISS SUSAN.  Please not to do that.

CHARLOTTE ( implying that  MISS SUSAN  will be responsible for her  early death ).  My chest is weak.  I shall sit among the dew.

MISS SUSAN.  Charlotte, you terrify me.  At least, please to put this  cloak about your shoulders.  Nay, my dear, allow me.

( She puts a cloak around  CHARLOTTE,  who departs vindictively for the  shrubbery.  She will not find  LIVVY  there, however, for next moment   MISS PHOEBE  darts in from the back. )

PHOEBE ( in a gay whisper ).  Susan, another offer [Transcriber's note:  officer?] --Major Linkwater--rotund man, black whiskers, fierce  expression; he has rushed away to destroy himself.

( We have been unable to find any record of the Major's tragic end. )

AN OLD SOLDIER ( looking up from a card table, whence he has heard the  raging of  BLADES).  Miss Livvy, ma'am, what is this about the moon?

(PHOEBE  smiles roguishly. )

PHOEBE ( looking about her ).  I want my cloak, Aunt Susan.

MISS SUSAN.  I have just lent it to poor Charlotte Parratt.

PHOEBE.  Oh, auntie!

OLD SOLDIER.  And now Miss Livvy cannot go into the shrubbery to see  the moon; and she is so fond of the moon!

(MISS PHOEBE  screws her nose at him merrily, and darts back to the  dance, but she has left a defender behind her. )

A GALLANT ( whose name we have not succeeded in discovering ).  Am I to  understand, sir, that you are intimating disparagement of the moon?  If  a certain female has been graciously pleased to signify approval of  that orb, any slight cast upon the moon, sir, I shall regard as a  personal affront.

OLD SOLDIER.  Hoity-toity.

( But he rises, and they face each other, as  MISS SUSAN  feels, for  battle.  She is about to rush between their undrawn swords when there  is a commotion outside; a crowd gathers and opens to allow some  officers to assist a fainting woman into the tent.  It is  MISS PHOEBE,   and  MISS SUSAN  with a cry goes on her knees beside her.  The tent  has filled with the sympathetic and inquisitive, but  CAPTAIN BROWN,   as a physician, takes command, and by his order they retire.  He finds  difficulty in bringing the sufferer to, and gets little help from  MISS  SUSAN,  who can only call upon  MISS PHOEBE  by name. )

VALENTINE.  Nay, Miss Susan, 'tis useless calling for Miss Phoebe.  'Tis my fault; I should not have permitted Miss Livvy to dance so  immoderately.  Why do they delay with the cordial?

( He goes to the back to close the opening, and while he is doing so  the incomprehensible  MISS PHOEBE  seizes the opportunity to sit up on  her couch of chairs, waggle her finger at  MISS SUSAN,  and sign darkly  that she is about to make a genteel recovery. )

PHOEBE.  Where am I?  Is that you, Aunt Susan?  What has happened?

VALENTINE ( returning ).  Nay, you must recline, Miss Livvy.  You  fainted.  You have over-fatigued yourself.

PHOEBE.  I remember.

(BLADES  enters with the cordial. )

VALENTINE.  You will sip this cordial.

BLADES.  By your leave, sir.

( He hands it to  PHOEBE  himself. )

VALENTINE.  She is in restored looks already, Miss Susan.

PHOEBE.  I am quite recovered.  Perhaps if you were to leave me now  with my excellent aunt----

VALENTINE.  Be off with you, apple cheeks.

BLADES.  Sir, I will suffer no reference to my complexion; and, if I  mistake not, this charming lady was addressing you.

PHOEBE.  If you please, both of you.  ( They retire together, and no  sooner have they gone than  MISS PHOEBE  leaps from the couch, her eyes  sparkling.  She presses the cordial on  MISS SUSAN.) Nay, drink it,  Susan.  I left it for you on purpose.  I have such awful information to  impart.  Drink.  (MISS SUSAN  drinks tremblingly and then the bolt is  fired. )  Susan, Miss Henrietta and Miss Fanny are here!

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe!

PHOEBE.  Suddenly my eyes lighted on them.  At once I slipped to the  ground.

MISS SUSAN.  You think they did not see you?

PHOEBE.  I am sure of it.  They talked for a moment to Ensign Blades,  and then turned and seemed to be going towards the shrubbery.

MISS SUSAN.  He had heard that you were there with Captain Brown.  He  must have told them.

PHOEBE.  I was not.  But oh, sister, I am sure they suspect, else why  should they be here?  They never frequent balls.

MISS SUSAN.  They have suspected for a week, ever since they saw you in  your veil, Phoebe, on the night of the first dance.  How could they but  suspect, when they have visited us every day since then and we have  always pretended that Livvy was gone out.

PHOEBE.  Should they see my face it will be idle to attempt to deceive  them.

MISS SUSAN.  Idle indeed; Phoebe, the scandal!  You--a schoolmistress!

PHOEBE.  That is it, sister.  A little happiness has gone to my head  like strong waters.

( She is very restless and troubled. )

MISS SUSAN.  My dear, stand still, and think.

PHOEBE.  I dare not, I cannot.  Oh, Susan, if they see me we need not  open school again.

MISS SUSAN.  We shall starve.

PHOEBE ( passionately ).  This horrid, forward, flirting, heartless,  hateful little toad of a Livvy.

MISS SUSAN.  Brother James's daughter, as we call her!

PHOEBE.  'Tis all James's fault.

MISS SUSAN.  Sister, when you know that James has no daughter!

PHOEBE.  If he had really had one, think you I could have been so  wicked as to personate her?  Susan, I know not what I am saying, but  you know who it is that has turned me into this wild creature.

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, Valentine Brown, how could you?

PHOEBE.  To weary of Phoebe--patient, lady-like Phoebe--the Phoebe whom  I have lost--to turn from her with a 'Bah, you make me old,' and become  enamoured in a night of a thing like this!

MISS SUSAN.  Yes, yes, indeed; yet he has been kind to us also.  He has  been to visit us several times.

PHOEBE.  In the hope to see her.  Was he not most silent and gloomy  when we said she was gone out?

MISS SUSAN.  He is infatuate---- ( She hesitates. )  Sister, you are  not partial to him still?

PHOEBE.  No, Susan, no.  I did love him all those years, though I never  spoke of it to you.  I put hope aside at once, I folded it up and  kissed it and put it away like a pretty garment I could never wear  again, I but loved to think of him as a noble man.  But he is not a  noble man, and Livvy found it out in an hour.  The gallant!  I flirted  that I might enjoy his fury.  Susan, there has been a declaration in  his eyes all to-night, and when he cries 'Adorable Miss Livvy, be  mine,' I mean to answer with an 'Oh, la, how ridiculous you are.  You  are much too old--I have been but quizzing you, sir.'

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, how can you be so cruel?

PHOEBE.  Because he has taken from me the one great glory that is in a  woman's life.  Not a man's love--she can do without that--but her own  dear sweet love for him.  He is unworthy of my love; that is why I can  be so cruel.

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, dear.

PHOEBE.  And now my triumph is to be denied me, for we must steal away  home before Henrietta and Fanny see us.

MISS SUSAN.  Yes, yes.

PHOEBE ( dispirited ).  And to-morrow we must say that Livvy has gone  back to her father, for I dare keep up this deception no longer.  Susan, let us go.

( They are going dejectedly, but are arrested by the apparition of   MISS HENRIETTA  and  MISS FANNY  peeping into the tent .  PHOEBE  has  just time to signify to her sister that she will confess all and beg  for mercy, when the intruders speak. )

Miss HENRIETTA ( not triumphant but astounded ).  You, Miss Phoebe?

PHOEBE ( with bowed head ).  Yes.

MISS FANNY.  How amazing!  You do not deny, ma'am, that you are Miss  Phoebe?

PHOEBE ( making confession ).  Yes, Fanny, I am Miss Phoebe.

( To her bewilderment  HENRIETTA  and  FANNY  exchange ashamed  glances. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  Miss Phoebe, we have done you a cruel wrong.

MISS FANNY.  Phoebe, we apologise.

MISS HENRIETTA.  To think how excitedly we have been following her  about in the shrubbery.

MISS FANNY.  She is wearing your cloak.

MISS HENRIETTA.  Ensign Blades told us she was gone to the shrubbery.

MISS FANNY.  And we were convinced there was no such person.

MISS HENRIETTA.  So of course we thought it must be you.

MISS FANNY ( who has looked out ).  I can discern her in the shrubbery  still.  She is decidedly taller than Phoebe.

MISS HENRIETTA.  I thought she looked taller.  I meant to say so.  Phoebe, 'twas the cloak deceived us.  We could not see her face.

PHOEBE ( beginning to understand ).  Cloak?  You mean, Henrietta--you  mean, Fanny--

MISS FANNY.  'Twas wicked of us, my dear, but we--we thought that you  and Miss Livvy were the same person.  ( They have evidently been  stalking  CHARLOTTE  in  MISS PHOEBE'S  cloak .  MISS SUSAN  shudders,  but  MISS PHOEBE  utters a cry of reproach, and it is some time before  they can persuade her to forgive them.  It is of course also some time  before we can forgive  MISS PHOEBE.) Phoebe, you look so pretty.  Are  they paying you no attentions, my dear?

(PHOEBE  is unable to resist these delightful openings.  The imploring  looks  MISS SUSAN  gives her but add to her enjoyment.  It is as if the  sense of fun she had caged a moment ago were broke loose again. )

PHOEBE.  Alas, they think of none but Livvy.  They come to me merely to  say that they adore her.

MISS HENRIETTA.  Surely not Captain Brown?

PHOEBE.  He is infatuate about her.

MISS FANNY.  Poor Phoebe!

( They make much of her, and she purrs naughtily to their stroking,  with lightning peeps at  MISS SUSAN.   Affronted Providence seeks to  pay her out by sending  ENSIGN BLADES  into the tent.  Then the close  observer may see  MISS PHOEBE'S  heart sink like a bucket in a well .  MISS SUSAN  steals from the tent. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  Mr. Blades, I have been saying that if I were a  gentleman I would pay my addresses to Miss Phoebe much rather than to  her niece.

BLADES.  Ma'am, excuse me.

MISS HENRIETTA ( indignant that  MISS PHOEBE  should be slighted so  publicly ).  Sir, you are a most ungallant and deficient young man.

BLADES.  Really, ma'am, I assure you----

MISS HENRIETTA.  Not another word, sir.

PHOEBE ( in her most old-maidish manner ).  Miss Fanny, Miss Henrietta,  it is time I spoke plainly to this gentleman.  Please leave him to me.  Surely 'twill come best from me.

MISS HENRIETTA.  Indeed, yes, if it be not too painful to you.

PHOEBE.  I must do my duty.

MISS FANNY ( wistfully ).  If we could remain--

PHOEBE.  Would it be seemly, Miss Fanny?

MISS HENRIETTA.  Come, Fanny.  ( To  BLADES.)  Sir, you bring your  punishment upon yourself.

( They press  PHOEBE'S  hand, and go.  Her heart returns to its usual  abode. )

BLADES ( bewildered ).  Are you angry with me, Miss Livvy?

PHOEBE.  Oh, no.

BLADES.  Miss Livvy, I have something to say to you of supreme  importance to me.  With regard to my complexion, I am aware, Miss  Livvy, that it has retained a too youthful bloom.  My brother officers  comment on it with a certain lack of generosity.  ( Anxiously. )  Might  I inquire, ma'am, whether you regard my complexion as a subject for  light talk.

PHOEBE.  No indeed, sir, I only wish I had it.

BLADES ( who has had no intention of offering, but is suddenly carried  off his feet by the excellence of the opportunity, which is no doubt  responsible for many proposals ).  Miss Livvy, ma'am, you may have it.

( She has a great and humorous longing that she could turn before his  affrighted eyes into the schoolmistress she really is.  She would  endure much to be able at this moment to say, 'I have listened to you,   ENSIGN BLADES,  with attention, but I am really  MISS PHOEBE,  and I  must now request you to fetch me the implement.' Under the shock, would  he have surrendered his palm for punishment?  It can never be known,  for as she looks at him longingly,  LIEUTENANT SPICER  enters, and he  mistakes the meaning of that longing look. )

SPICER.  'Tis my dance, ma'am--'tis not Ensign Blades'.

BLADES.  Leave us, sir.  We have matter of moment to discuss.

SPICER ( fearing the worst ).  His affection, Miss Livvy, is not so  deep as mine.  He is a light and shallow nature.

PHOEBE.  Pooh!  You are both light and shallow natures.

BLADES.  Both, ma'am?  ( But he is not sure that he has not had a  miraculous escape. )

PHOEBE ( severely ).  'Tis such as you, with your foolish flirting  ways, that confuse the minds of women and make us try to be as silly as  yourselves.

SPICER ( crushed ).  Ma'am.

PHOEBE.  I did not mean to hurt you.  ( She takes a hand of each and  tries to advise them as if her curls were once more hidden under a  cap. ) You are so like little boys in a school.  Do be good.  Sit here  beside me.  I know you are very brave--

BLADES.  Ha!

PHOEBE.  And when you come back from the wars it must be so delightful  to you to flirt with the ladies again.

SPICER.  Oh, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  As soon as you see a lady with a pretty nose you cannot help  saying that you adore her.

BLADES ( in an ecstasy ).  Nay, I swear.

PHOEBE.  And you offer to her, not from love, but because you are so  deficient in conversation.

SPICER.  Charming, Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE ( with sudden irritation ).  Oh, sir, go away; go away, both of  you, and read improving books.

( They are cast down.  She has not been quite fair to these gallants,  for it is not really of them she has grown weary so much as of the lady  they temporarily adore.  If  MISS PHOEBE  were to analyse her feelings  she would find that her remark is addressed to  LIVVY,  and that it  means, 'I have enjoyed for a little pretending to be you, but I am not  you and I do not wish to be you.  Your glitter and the airs of you and  the racket of you tire me, I want to be done with you, and to be back  in quiet Quality Street, of which I am a part; it is really pleasant to  me to know that I shall wake up to-morrow slightly middle-aged.'  With  the entrance of  CAPTAIN BROWN,  however, she is at once a frivol  again.  He frowns at sight of her cavaliers. )

VALENTINE.  Gentlemen, I instructed this lady to rest, and I am  surprised to find you in attendance.  Miss Livvy, you must be weary of  their fatuities, and I have taken the liberty to order your chaise.

PHOEBE.  It is indeed a liberty.

BLADES.  An outrage.

PHOEBE.  I prefer to remain.

VALENTINE.  Nay.

PHOEBE.  I promised this dance to Ensign Blades.

SPICER.  To me, ma'am.

PHOEBE.  And the following one to Lieutenant Spicer.  Mr. Blades, your  arm.

VALENTINE.  I forbid any further dancing.

PHOEBE.  Forbid.  La!

BLADES.  Sir, by what right----

VALENTINE.  By a right which I hope to make clear to Miss Livvy as soon  as you gentlemen have retired.

(PHOEBE  sees that the declaration is coming.  She steels herself. )

PHOEBE.  I am curious to know what Captain Brown can have to say to me.  In a few minutes, Mr. Blades, Lieutenant Spicer, I shall be at your  service.

VALENTINE.  I trust not.

PHOEBE.  I give them my word.

( The young gentlemen retire, treading air once more .  BROWN  surveys  her rather grimly. )

VALENTINE.  You are an amazing pretty girl, ma'am, but you are a  shocking flirt.

PHOEBE.  La!

VALENTINE.  It has somewhat diverted me to watch them go down before  you.  But I know you have a kind heart, and that if there be a rapier  in your one hand there is a handkerchief in the other ready to staunch  their wounds.

PHOEBE.  I have not observed that they bled much.

VALENTINE.  The Blades and the like, no.  But one may, perhaps.

PHOEBE ( obviously the reference is to himself ).  Perhaps I may wish  to see him bleed.

VALENTINE ( grown stern ).  For shame, Miss Livvy.  ( Anger rises in  her, but she wishes him to proceed. )  I speak, ma'am, in the interests  of the man to whom I hope to see you affianced.

( No, she does not wish him to proceed.  She had esteemed him for so  long, she cannot have him debase himself before her now. )

PHOEBE.  Shall we--I have changed my mind, I consent to go home.  Please to say nothing.

VALENTINE.  Nay----

PHOEBE.  I beg you.

VALENTINE.  No.  We must have it out.

PHOEBE.  Then if you must go on, do so.  But remember I begged you to  desist.  Who is this happy man?

( His next words are a great shock to her. )

VALENTINE.  As to who he is, ma'am, of course I have no notion.  Nor, I  am sure, have you, else you would be more guarded in your conduct.  But  some day, Miss Livvy, the right man will come.  Not to be able to tell  him all, would it not be hard?  And how could you acquaint him with  this poor sport?  His face would change, ma'am, as you told him of it,  and yours would be a false face until it was told.  This is what I have  been so desirous to say to you--by the right of a friend.

PHOEBE ( in a low voice but bravely ).  I see.

VALENTINE ( afraid that he has hurt her ).  It has been hard to say and  I have done it bunglingly.  Ah, but believe me, Miss Livvy, it is not  the flaunting flower men love; it is the modest violet.

PHOEBE.  The modest violet!   You  dare to say that.

VALENTINE.  Yes, indeed, and when you are acquaint with what love  really is----

PHOEBE.  Love!  What do you know of love?

VALENTINE ( a little complacently ).  Why, ma'am, I know all about it.  I am in love, Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE ( with a disdainful inclination of the head ).  I wish you happy.

VALENTINE.  With a lady who was once very like you, ma'am.

( At first  PHOEBE  does not understand, then a suspicion of his  meaning comes to her. )

PHOEBE.  Not--not--oh no.

VALENTINE.  I had not meant to speak of it, but why should not I?  It  will be a fine lesson to you, Miss Livvy.  Ma'am, it is your Aunt  Phoebe whom I love.

PHOEBE ( rigid ).  You do not mean that.

VALENTINE.  Most ardently.

PHOEBE.  It is not true; how dare you make sport of her.

VALENTINE.  Is it sport to wish she may be my wife?

PHOEBE.  Your wife!

VALENTINE.  If I could win her.

PHOEBE ( bewildered ).  May I solicit, sir, for how long you have been  attached to Miss Phoebe?

VALENTINE.  For nine years, I think.

PHOEBE.  You think!

VALENTINE.  I want to be honest.  Never in all that time had I thought  myself in love.  Your aunts were my dear friends, and while I was at  the wars we sometimes wrote to each other, but they were only friendly  letters.  I presume the affection was too placid to be love.

PHOEBE.  I think that would be Aunt Phoebe's opinion.

VALENTINE.  Yet I remember, before we went into action for the first  time--I suppose the fear of death was upon me--some of them were making  their wills--I have no near relative--I left everything to these two  ladies.

PHOEBE ( softly ).  Did you?

( What is it that  MISS PHOEBE  begins to see as she sits there so  quietly, with her hands pressed together as if upon some treasure?  It  is  PHOEBE  of the ringlets with the stain taken out of her. )

VALENTINE.  And when I returned a week ago and saw Miss Phoebe, grown  so tired-looking and so poor----

PHOEBE.  The shock made you feel old, I know.

VALENTINE.  No, Miss Livvy, but it filled me with a sudden passionate  regret that I had not gone down in that first engagement.  They would  have been very comfortably left.

PHOEBE.  Oh, sir!

VALENTINE.  I am not calling it love.

PHOEBE.  It was sweet and kind, but it was not love.

VALENTINE.  It is love now.

PHOEBE.  No, it is only pity.

VALENTINE.  It is love.

PHOEBE ( she smiles tremulously ).  You really mean Phoebe--tired,  unattractive Phoebe, that woman whose girlhood is gone.  Nay,  impossible.

VALENTINE ( stoutly ).  Phoebe of the fascinating playful ways, whose  ringlets were once as pretty as yours, ma'am.  I have visited her in  her home several times this week--you were always out--I thank you for  that!  I was alone with her, and with fragrant memories of her.

PHOEBE.  Memories!  Yes, that is the Phoebe you love, the bright girl  of the past--not the schoolmistress in her old-maid's cap.

VALENTINE.  There you wrong me, for I have discovered for myself that  the schoolmistress in her old-maid's cap is the noblest Miss Phoebe of  them all.  ( If only he would go away, and let  MISS PHOEBE  cry. )  When I enlisted, I remember I compared her to a garden.  I have often  thought of that.

PHOEBE.  'Tis an old garden now.

VALENTINE.  The paths, ma'am, are better shaded.

PHOEBE.  The flowers have grown old-fashioned.

VALENTINE.  They smell the sweeter.  Miss Livvy, do you think there is  any hope for me?

PHOEBE.  There was a man whom Miss Phoebe loved--long ago.  He did not  love her.

VALENTINE.  Now here was a fool!

PHOEBE.  He kissed her once.

VALENTINE.  If Miss Phoebe suffered him to do that she thought he loved  her.

PHOEBE.  Yes, yes.  ( She has to ask him the ten years old question. )  Do you opinion that this makes her action in allowing it less  reprehensible?  It has been such a pain to her ever since.

VALENTINE.  How like Miss Phoebe!  ( Sternly. )  But that man was a  knave.

PHOEBE.  No, he was a good man--only a little--inconsiderate.  She  knows now that he has even forgotten that he did it.  I suppose men are  like that?

VALENTINE.  No, Miss Livvy, men are not like that.  I am a very average  man, but I thank God I am not like that.

PHOEBE.  It was you.

VALENTINE ( after a pause ).  Did Miss Phoebe say that?

PHOEBE.  Yes.

VALENTINE.  Then it is true.

( He is very grave and quiet. )

PHOEBE.  It was raining and her face was wet.  You said you did it  because her face was wet.

VALENTINE.  I had quite forgotten.

PHOEBE.  But she remembers, and how often do you think the shameful  memory has made her face wet since?  The face you love, Captain Brown,  you were the first to give it pain.  The tired eyes--how much less  tired they might be if they had never known you.  You who are torturing  me with every word, what have you done to Miss Phoebe?  You who think  you can bring back the bloom to that faded garden, and all the pretty  airs and graces that fluttered round it once like little birds before  the nest is torn down--bring them back to her if you can, sir; it was  you who took them away.

VALENTINE.  I vow I shall do my best to bring them back.  (MISS PHOEBE   shakes her head. ) Miss Livvy, with your help----

PHOEBE.  My help!  I have not helped.  I tried to spoil it all.

VALENTINE ( smiling ).  To spoil it?  You mean that you sought to flirt  even with me.  Ah, I knew you did.  But that is nothing.

PHOEBE.  Oh, sir, if you could overlook it.

VALENTINE.  I do.

PHOEBE.  And forget these hateful balls.

VALENTINE.  Hateful!  Nay, I shall never call them that.  They have  done me too great a service.  It was at the balls that I fell in love  with Miss Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  What can you mean?

VALENTINE.  She who was never at a ball!  ( Checking himself  humorously. )  But I must not tell you, it might hurt you.

PHOEBE.  Tell me.

VALENTINE ( gaily ).  Then on your own head be the blame.  It is you  who have made me love her, Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE.  Sir?

VALENTINE.  Yes, it is odd, and yet very simple.  You who so resembled  her as she was! for an hour, ma'am, you bewitched me; yes, I confess  it, but 'twas only for an hour.  How like, I cried at first, but soon  it was, how unlike.  There was almost nothing she would have said that  you said; you did so much that she would have scorned to do.  But I  must not say these things to you!

PHOEBE.  I ask it of you, Captain Brown.

VALENTINE.  Well!  Miss Phoebe's 'lady-likeness,' on which she set such  store that I used to make merry of the word--I gradually perceived that  it is a woman's most beautiful garment, and the casket which contains  all the adorable qualities that go to the making of a perfect female.  When Miss Livvy rolled her eyes--ah!

( He stops apologetically. )

PHOEBE.  Proceed, sir.

VALENTINE.  It but made me the more complacent that never in her life  had Miss Phoebe been guilty of the slightest deviation from the  strictest propriety.  ( She shudders. )  I was always conceiving her in  your place.  Oh, it was monstrous unfair to you.  I stood looking at  you, Miss Livvy, and seeing in my mind her and the pretty things she  did, and you did not do; why, ma'am, that is how I fell in love with  Miss Phoebe at the balls.

PHOEBE.  I thank you.

VALENTINE.  Ma'am, tell me, do you think there is any hope for me?

PHOEBE.  Hope!

VALENTINE.  I shall go to her.  'Miss Phoebe,' I will say--oh, ma'am,  so reverently--'Miss Phoebe, my beautiful, most estimable of women, let  me take care of you for ever more.'

(MISS PHOEBE  presses the words to her heart and then drops them. )

PHOEBE.  Beautiful.  La, Aunt Phoebe!

VALENTINE.  Ah, ma'am, you may laugh at a rough soldier so much  enamoured, but 'tis true.  'Marry me, Miss Phoebe,' I will say, 'and I  will take you back through those years of hardships that have made your  sweet eyes too patient.  Instead of growing older you shall grow  younger.  We will travel back together to pick up the many little joys  and pleasures you had to pass by when you trod that thorny path alone.'

PHOEBE.  Can't be--can't be.

VALENTINE.  Nay, Miss Phoebe has loved me.  'Tis you have said it.

PHOEBE.  I did not mean to tell you.

VALENTINE.  She will be my wife yet.

PHOEBE.  Never.

VALENTINE.  You are severe, Miss Livvy.  But it is because you are  partial to her, and I am happy of that.

PHOEBE ( in growing horror of herself ).  I partial to her!  I am  laughing at both of you.  Miss Phoebe.  La, that old thing.

VALENTINE ( sternly ).  Silence!

PHOEBE.  I hate her and despise her.  If you knew what she is----

( He stops her with a gesture. )

VALENTINE.  I know what you are.

PHOEBE.  That paragon who has never been guilty of the slightest  deviation from the strictest propriety.

VALENTINE.  Never.

PHOEBE.  That garden----

VALENTINE.  Miss Livvy, for shame.

PHOEBE.  Your garden has been destroyed, sir; the weeds have entered  it, and all the flowers are choked.

VALENTINE.  You false woman, what do you mean?

PHOEBE.  I will tell you.  ( But his confidence awes her. )  What faith  you have in her.

VALENTINE.  As in my God.  Speak.

PHOEBE.  I cannot tell you.

VALENTINE.  No, you cannot.

PHOEBE.  It is too horrible.

VALENTINE.  You are too horrible.  Is not that it?

PHOEBE.  Yes, that is it.

(MISS SUSAN  has entered and caught the last words. )

MISS SUSAN ( shrinking as from a coming blow ).  What is too horrible?

VALENTINE.  Ma'am, I leave the telling of it to her, if she dare.  And  I devoutly hope those are the last words I shall ever address to this  lady.

( He bows and goes out in dudgeon .  MISS SUSAN  believes all is  discovered and that  MISS PHOEBE  is for ever shamed. )

MISS SUSAN ( taking  PHOEBE  in her arms ).  My love, my dear, what  terrible thing has he said to you?

PHOEBE ( forgetting everything but that she is loved ).  Not  terrible--glorious!  Susan, 'tis Phoebe he loves, 'tis me, not Livvy!  He loves me, he loves me!  Me--Phoebe!

(MISS SUSAN'S  bosom swells.  It is her great hour as much as   PHOEBE'S.)

End of Act III.

ACT IV   THE BLUE AND WHITE ROOM

If we could shut our eyes to the two sisters sitting here in woe, this  would be, to the male eye at least, the identical blue and white room  of ten years ago; the same sun shining into it and playing familiarly  with Miss Susan's treasures.  But the ladies are changed.  It is not  merely that Miss Phoebe has again donned her schoolmistress's gown and  hidden her curls under the cap.  To see her thus once more, her real  self, after the escapade of the ball, is not unpleasant, and the cap  and gown do not ill become the quiet room.  But she now turns guiltily  from the sun that used to be her intimate, her face is drawn, her form  condensed into the smallest space, and her hands lie trembling in her  lap.  It is disquieting to note that any life there is in the room  comes not from her but from Miss Susan.  If the house were to go on  fire now it would be she who would have to carry out Miss Phoebe.

Whatever of import has happened since the ball, Patty knows it, and is  enjoying it.  We see this as she ushers in Miss Willoughby.  Note also,  with concern, that at mention of the visitor's name the eyes of the  sisters turn affrightedly, not to the door by which their old friend  enters, but to the closed door of the spare bed-chamber.  Patty also  gives it a meaning glance; then the three look at each other, and two  of them blanch.

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( the fourth to look at the door ).  I am just run  across, Susan, to inquire how Miss Livvy does now.

MISS SUSAN.  She is still very poorly, Mary.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  I am so unhappy of that.  I conceive it to be a  nervous disorder?

MISS SUSAN ( almost too glibly ).  Accompanied by trembling,  flutterings, and spasms.

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  The excitements of the ball.  You have summoned the  apothecary at last, I trust, Phoebe?

(MISS PHOEBE,  once so ready of defence, can say nothing. )

MISS SUSAN ( to the rescue ).  It is Livvy's own wish that he should  not be consulted.

Miss WILLOUGHBY ( looking longingly at the door ).  May I go in to see  her?

MISS SUSAN.  I fear not, Mary.  She is almost asleep, and it is best  not to disturb her.  ( Peeping into the bedroom. )  Lie quite still,  Livvy, my love, quite still.

( Somehow this makes  PATTY  smile so broadly that she finds it  advisable to retire .  MISS WILLOUGHBY  sighs, and produces a small  bowl from the folds of her cloak. )

Miss WILLOUGHBY.  This is a little arrowroot, of which I hope Miss  Livvy will be so obliging as to partake.

MISS SUSAN ( taking the bowl ).  I thank you, Mary.

PHOEBE ( ashamed ).  Susan, we ought not----

MISS SUSAN ( shameless ).  I will take it to her while it is still warm.

( She goes into the bedroom .  MISS WILLOUGHBY  gazes at  MISS PHOEBE,   who certainly shrinks.  It has not escaped the notice of the visitor  that  MISS PHOEBE  has become the more timid of the sisters, and she  has evolved an explanation. )

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  Phoebe, has Captain Brown been apprised of Miss  Livvy's illness?

PHOEBE ( uncomfortably ).  I think not, Miss Willoughby.

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( sorry for  PHOEBE,  and speaking very kindly ).  Is  this right, Phoebe?  You informed Fanny and Henrietta at the ball of  his partiality for Livvy.  My dear, it is hard for you, but have you  any right to keep them apart?

PHOEBE ( discovering only now what are the suspicions of her friends ).  Is that what you think I am doing, Miss Willoughby?

MISS WILLOUGHBY.  Such a mysterious illness.  ( Sweetly )  Long ago,  Phoebe, I once caused much unhappiness through foolish jealousy.  That  is why I venture to hope that you will not be as I was, my dear.

PHOEBE.  I jealous of Livvy!

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( with a sigh ).  I thought as little of the lady I  refer to, but he thought otherwise.

PHOEBE.  Indeed, Miss Willoughby, you wrong me.

( But  MISS WILLOUGHBY  does not entirely believe her, and there is a  pause, so long a pause that unfortunately  MISS SUSAN  thinks she has  left the house. )

MISS SUSAN ( peeping in ).  Is she gone?

MISS WILLOUGHBY ( hurt ).  No, Susan, but I am going.

MISS SUSAN ( distressed ).  Mary!

( She follows her out, but  MISS WILLOUGHBY  will not be comforted, and  there is a coldness between them for the rest of the day .  MISS SUSAN   is not so abashed as she ought to be.  She returns, and partakes with  avidity of the arrowroot. )

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, I am well aware that this is wrong of me, but  Mary's arrowroot is so delicious.  The ladies'-fingers and  petticoat-tails those officers sent to Livvy, I ate them also!  ( Once  on a time this would have amused  MISS PHOEBE,  but her sense of humour  has gone.  She is crying. )  Phoebe, if you have such remorse you will  weep yourself to death.

PHOEBE.  Oh, sister, were it not for you, how gladly would I go into a  decline.

MISS SUSAN ( after she has soothed  PHOEBE  a little ).  My dear, what  is to be done about her?  We cannot have her supposed to be here for  ever.

PHOEBE.  We had to pretend that she was ill to keep her out of sight;  and now we cannot say she has gone away, for the Miss Willoughby's  windows command our door, and they are always watching.

MISS SUSAN ( peeping from the window ).  I see Fanny watching now.  I  feel, Phoebe, as if Livvy really existed.

PHOEBE ( mournfully ).  We shall never be able to esteem ourselves  again.

MISS SUSAN ( who has in her the makings of a desperate criminal ).  Phoebe, why not marry him?  If only we could make him think that Livvy  had gone home.  Then he need never know.

PHOEBE.  Susan, you pain me.  She who marries without telling all--hers  must ever be a false face.  They are his own words.

(PATTY  enters importantly. )

PATTY.  Captain Brown.

PHOEBE ( starting up ).  I wrote to him, begging him not to come.

MISS SUSAN ( quickly ).  Patty, I am sorry we are out.

( But  VALENTINE  has entered in time to hear her words. )

VALENTINE ( not unmindful that this is the room in which he is esteemed  a wit ).  I regret that they are out, Patty, but I will await their  return.  ( The astonishing man sits on the ottoman beside  MISS SUSAN,   but politely ignores her presence. )  It is not my wish to detain you,  Patty.

(PATTY  goes reluctantly, and the sisters think how like him, and how  delightful it would be if they were still the patterns of propriety he  considers them. )

PHOEBE ( bravely ).  Captain Brown.

VALENTINE ( rising ).  You, Miss Phoebe.  I hear Miss Livvy is  indisposed?

PHOEBE.  She is--very poorly.

VALENTINE.  But it is not that unpleasant girl I have come to see, it  is you.

MISS SUSAN ( meekly ).  How do you do?

VALENTINE ( ignoring her ).  And I am happy, Miss Phoebe, to find you  alone.

MISS SUSAN ( appealingly ).  How do you do, sir?

PHOEBE.  You know quite well, sir, that Susan is here.

VALENTINE.  Nay, ma'am, excuse me.  I heard Miss Susan say she was gone  out.  Miss Susan is incapable of prevarication.

MISS SUSAN ( rising--helpless ).  What am I to do?

PHOEBE.  Don't go, Susan--'tis what he wants.

VALENTINE.  I have her word that she is not present.

MISS SUSAN.  Oh dear.

VALENTINE.  My faith in Miss Susan is absolute.  ( At this she retires  into the bedroom, and immediately his manner changes.  He takes  MISS  PHOEBE'S  hands into his own kind ones. ) You coward, Miss Phoebe, to  be afraid of Valentine Brown.

PHOEBE.  I wrote and begged you not to come.

VALENTINE.  You implied as a lover, Miss Phoebe, but surely always as a  friend.

PHOEBE.  Oh yes, yes.

VALENTINE.  You told Miss Livvy that you loved me once.  How carefully  you hid it from me!

PHOEBE ( more firmly ).  A woman must never tell.  You went away to the  great battles.  I was left to fight in a little one.  Women have a flag  to fly, Mr. Brown, as well as men, and old maids have a flag as well as  women.  I tried to keep mine flying.

VALENTINE.  But you ceased to care for me.  ( Tenderly. )  I dare ask  your love no more, but I still ask you to put yourself into my keeping.  Miss Phoebe, let me take care of you.

PHOEBE.  It cannot be.

VALENTINE.  This weary teaching!  Let me close your school.

PHOEBE.  Please, sir.

VALENTINE.  If not for your own sake, I ask you, Miss Phoebe, to do it  for mine.  In memory of the thoughtless recruit who went off laughing  to the wars.  They say ladies cannot quite forget the man who has used  them ill; Miss Phoebe, do it for me because I used you ill.

PHOEBE.  I beg you--no more.

VALENTINE ( manfully ).  There, it is all ended.  Miss Phoebe, here is  my hand on it.

PHOEBE.  What will you do now?

VALENTINE.  I also must work.  I will become a physician again, with  some drab old housekeeper to neglect me and the house.  Do you foresee  the cobwebs gathering and gathering, Miss Phoebe?

PHOEBE.  Oh, sir!

VALENTINE.  You shall yet see me in Quality Street, wearing my stock  all awry.

PHOEBE.  Oh, oh!

VALENTINE.  And with snuff upon my sleeve.

PHOEBE.  Sir, sir!

VALENTINE.  No skulker, ma'am, I hope, but gradually turning into a  grumpy, crusty, bottle-nosed old bachelor.

PHOEBE.  Oh, Mr. Brown!

VALENTINE.  And all because you will not walk across the street with me.

PHOEBE.  Indeed, sir, you must marry--and I hope it may be some one who  is really like a garden.

VALENTINE.  I know but one.  That reminds me, Miss Phoebe, of something  I had forgot.  ( He produces a paper from his pocket. )  'Tis a trifle  I have wrote about you.  But I fear to trouble you.

(PHOEBE'S  hands go out longingly for it. )

PHOEBE ( reading ).  'Lines to a Certain Lady, who is Modestly unaware  of her Resemblance to a Garden.  Wrote by her servant, V. B.'

( The beauty of this makes her falter.  She looks up. )

VALENTINE ( with a poet's pride ).  There is more of it, ma'am.

PHOEBE ( reading )

The lilies are her pretty thoughts,      Her shoulders are the may,    Her smiles are all forget-me-nots,      The path 's her gracious way,

The roses that do line it are      Her fancies walking round,    'Tis sweetly smelling lavender      In which my lady's gowned.

(MISS PHOEBE  has thought herself strong, but she is not able to read  such exquisite lines without betraying herself to a lover's gaze. )

VALENTINE ( excitedly ).  Miss Phoebe, when did you cease to care for  me?

PHOEBE ( retreating from him but clinging to her poem ).  You promised  not to ask.

VALENTINE.  I know not why you should, Miss Phoebe, but I believe you  love me still!

(MISS PHOEBE  has the terrified appearance of a detected felon. )

( MISS SUSAN returns. )

MISS SUSAN.  You are talking so loudly.

VALENTINE.  Miss Susan, does she care for me still?

MISS SUSAN ( forgetting her pride of sex ).  Oh, sir, how could she  help it.

VALENTINE.  Then by Gad, Miss Phoebe, you shall marry me though I have  to carry you in my arms to the church.

PHOEBE.  Sir, how can you!

( But  MISS SUSAN  gives her a look which means that it must be done if  only to avoid such a scandal.  It is at this inopportune moment that   MISS HENRIETTA  and  MISS FANNY  are announced. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  I think Miss Willoughby has already popped in.

PHOEBE ( with a little spirit ).  Yes, indeed.

MISS SUSAN ( a mistress of sarcasm ).  How is Mary, Fanny?  She has not  been to see us for several minutes.

MISS FANNY ( somewhat daunted ).  Mary is so partial to you, Susan.

VALENTINE.  Your servant, Miss Henrietta, Miss Fanny.

MISS FANNY.  How do you do, sir?

MISS HENRIETTA ( wistfully ).  And how do you find Miss Livvy, sir?

VALENTINE.  I have not seen her, Miss Henrietta.

MISS HENRIETTA.  Indeed!

MISS FANNY.  Not even you?

VALENTINE.  You seem surprised?

MISS FANNY.  Nay, sir, you must not say so; but really, Phoebe!

PHOEBE.  Fanny, you presume!

VALENTINE ( puzzled ).  If one of you ladies would deign to enlighten  me.  To begin with, what is Miss Livvy's malady?

MISS HENRIETTA.  He does not know?  Oh, Phoebe.

VALENTINE.  Ladies, have pity on a dull man, and explain.

MISS FANNY ( timidly ).  Please not to ask us to explain.  I fear we  have already said more than was proper.  Phoebe, forgive.

( To  CAPTAIN BROWN  this but adds to the mystery, and he looks to   PHOEBE  for enlightenment. )

PHOEBE ( desperate ).  I understand, sir, there is a belief that I keep  Livvy in confinement because of your passion for her.

VALENTINE.  My passion for Miss Livvy?  Why, Miss Fanny, I cannot abide  her--nor she me.  ( Looking manfully at  MISS PHOEBE.) Furthermore, I  am proud to tell you that this is the lady whom I adore.

MISS FANNY.  Phoebe?

VALENTINE.  Yes, ma'am.

( The ladies are for a moment bereft of speech, and the uplifted   PHOEBE  cannot refrain from a movement which, if completed, would be a  curtsy.  Her punishment follows promptly. )

MISS HENRIETTA ( from her heart ).  Phoebe, I am so happy 'tis you.

MISS FANNY.  Dear Phoebe, I give you joy.  And you also, sir.  (MISS  PHOEBE  sends her sister a glance of unutterable woe, and escapes from  the room.  It is most ill-bred of her. )  Miss Susan, I do not  understand!

MISS HENRIETTA.  Is it that Miss Livvy is an obstacle?

MISS SUSAN ( who knows that there is no hope for her but in flight ).  I think I hear Phoebe calling me--a sudden indisposition.  Pray excuse  me, Henrietta.  ( She goes. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  We know not, sir, whether to offer you our  felicitations?

VALENTINE ( cogitating ).  May I ask, ma'am, what you mean by an  obstacle?  Is there some mystery about Miss Livvy?

MISS HENRIETTA.  So much so, sir, that we at one time thought she and  Miss Phoebe were the same person.

VALENTINE.  Pshaw!

MISS FANNY.  Why will they admit no physician into her presence?

MISS HENRIETTA.  The blinds of her room are kept most artfully drawn.

MISS FANNY ( plaintively ).  We have never seen her, sir.  Neither Miss  Susan nor Miss Phoebe will present her to us.

VALENTINE ( impressed ).  Indeed.

(MISS HENRIETTA  and  MISS FANNY,  encouraged by his sympathy, draw  nearer the door of the interesting bedchamber.  They falter.  Any one  who thinks, however, that they would so far forget themselves as to  open the door and peep in, has no understanding of the ladies of  Quality Street.  They are, nevertheless, not perfect, for  MISS  HENRIETTA  knocks on the door. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  How do you find yourself, dear Miss Livvy?

( There is no answer.  It is our pride to record that they come away  without even touching the handle.  They look appealing at  CAPTAIN  BROWN,  whose face has grown grave. )

VALENTINE.  I think, ladies, as a physician--

( He walks into the bedroom.  They feel an ignoble drawing to follow  him, but do not yield to it.  When he returns his face is inscrutable. )

MISS HENRIETTA.  Is she very poorly, sir?

VALENTINE.  Ha.

MISS FANNY.  We did not hear you address her.

VALENTINE.  She is not awake, ma'am.

MISS HENRIETTA.  It is provoking.

MISS FANNY ( sternly just ).  They informed Mary that she was nigh  asleep.

VALENTINE.  It is not a serious illness I think, ma'am.  With the  permission of Miss Phoebe and Miss Susan I will make myself more  acquaint with her disorder presently.  ( He is desirous to be alone. )  But we must not talk lest we disturb her.

MISS FANNY.  You suggest our retiring, sir?

VALENTINE.  Nay, Miss Fanny----

MISS FANNY.  You are very obliging; but I think, Henrietta----

MISS HENRIETTA ( rising ).  Yes, Fanny.

( No doubt they are the more ready to depart that they wish to inform   MISS WILLOUGHBY  at once of these strange doings.  As they go , MISS  SUSAN  and  MISS PHOEBE  return, and the adieux are less elaborate than  usual.  Neither visitors nor hostesses quite know what to say .  MISS  SUSAN  is merely relieved to see them leave, but  MISS PHOEBE  has read  something in their manner that makes her uneasy. )

PHOEBE.  Why have they departed so hurriedly, sir?  They--they did not  go in to see Livvy?

VALENTINE.  No.

( She reads danger in his face. )

PHOEBE.  Why do you look at me so strangely?

VALENTINE ( somewhat stern ).  Miss Phoebe, I desire to see Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE.  Impossible.

VALENTINE.  Why impossible?  They tell me strange stories about no  one's seeing her.  Miss Phoebe, I will not leave this house until I  have seen her.

PHOEBE.  You cannot.  ( But he is very determined, and she is afraid of  him. )  Will you excuse me, sir, while I talk with Susan behind the  door?

( The sisters go guiltily into the bedroom, and  CAPTAIN BROWN  after  some hesitation rings for  PATTY.)

VALENTINE.  Patty, come here.  Why is this trick being played upon me?

PATTY ( with all her wits about her ).  Trick, sir!  Who would dare?

VALENTINE.  I know, Patty, that Miss Phoebe has been Miss Livvy all the  time.

PATTY.  I give in!

VALENTINE.  Why has she done this?

PATTY ( beseechingly ).  Are you laughing, sir?

VALENTINE.  I am very far from laughing.

PATTY ( turning on him ).  'Twas you that began it, all by not knowing  her in the white gown.

VALENTINE.  Why has this deception been kept up so long?

PATTY.  Because you would not see through it.  Oh, the wicked  denseness.  She thought you were infatuate with Miss Livvy because she  was young and silly.

VALENTINE.  It is infamous.

PATTY.  I will not have you call her names.  'Twas all playful  innocence at first, and now she is so feared of you she is weeping her  soul to death, and all I do I cannot rouse her.  'I ha' a follower in  the kitchen, ma'am,' says I, to infuriate her.  'Give him a glass of  cowslip wine,' says she, like a gentle lamb.  And ill she can afford  it, you having lost their money for them.

VALENTINE.  What is that?  On the contrary, all the money they have,  Patty, they owe to my having invested it for them.

PATTY.  That is the money they lost.

VALENTINE.  You are sure of that?

PATTY.  I can swear to it.

VALENTINE.  Deceived me about that also.  Good God; but why?

PATTY.  I think she was feared you would offer to her out of pity.  She  said something to Miss Susan about keeping a flag flying.  What she  meant I know not.  ( But he knows, and he turns away his face. )  Are  you laughing, sir?

VALENTINE.  No, Patty, I am not laughing.  Why do they not say Miss  Livvy has gone home?  It would save them a world of trouble.

PATTY.  The Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta--they watch the house  all day.  They would say she cannot be gone, for we did not see her go.

VALENTINE ( enlightened at last ).  I see!

PATTY.  And Miss Phoebe and Miss Susan wring their hands, for they are  feared Miss Livvy is bedridden here for all time.  ( Now his sense of  humour asserts itself ).  Thank the Lord, you 're laughing!

( At this he laughs the more, and it is a gay  CAPTAIN BROWN  on whom   MISS SUSAN  opens the bedroom door.  This desperate woman is too full  of plot to note the change in him. )

MISS SUSAN.  I am happy to inform you, sir, that Livvy finds herself  much improved.

VALENTINE ( bolting ).  It is joy to me to hear it.

MISS SUSAN.  She is coming in to see you.

PATTY ( aghast ).  Oh, ma'am!

VALENTINE ( frowning on  PATTY).  I shall be happy to see the poor  invalid.

PATTY.  Ma'am----!

( But  MISS SUSAN,  believing that so far all is well, has returned to  the bedchamber .  CAPTAIN BROWN  bestows a quizzical glance upon the  maid. )

VALENTINE.  Go away, Patty.  Anon I may claim a service of you, but for  the present, go.

PATTY.  But--but----

VALENTINE.  Retire, woman.

( She has to go, and he prepares his face for the reception of the  invalid .  PHOEBE  comes in without her cap, the ringlets showing  again.  She wears a dressing jacket and is supported by  MISS SUSAN.)

VALENTINE ( gravely ).  Your servant, Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE ( weakly ).  How do you do?

VALENTINE.  Allow me, Miss Susan.

( He takes  MISS SUSAN'S  place; but after an exquisite moment  MISS  PHOEBE  breaks away from him, feeling that she is not worthy of such  bliss. )

PHOEBE.  No, no, I--I can walk alone--see.

( She reclines upon the couch. )

MISS SUSAN.  How do you think she is looking?

( He makes a professional examination of the patient, and they are very  ashamed to deceive him, but not so ashamed that they must confess. )

What do you think?

VALENTINE ( solemnly ).  She will recover.  May I say, ma'am, it  surprises me that any one should see much resemblance between you and  your Aunt Phoebe.  Miss Phoebe is decidedly shorter and more thick-set.

PHOEBE ( sitting up ).  No, I am not.

VALENTINE.  I said Miss Phoebe, ma'am.  ( She reclines. )  But tell me,  is not Miss Phoebe to join us?

PHOEBE.  She hopes you will excuse her, sir.

MISS SUSAN ( vaguely ).  Taking the opportunity of airing the room.

VALENTINE.  Ah, of course.

MISS SUSAN ( opening bedroom door and catting mendaciously ).  Captain  Brown will excuse you, Phoebe.

VALENTINE.  Certainly, Miss Susan.  Well, ma'am, I think I could cure  Miss Livvy if she is put unreservedly into my hands.

MISS SUSAN ( with a sigh ).  I am sure you could.

VALENTINE.  Then you are my patient, Miss Livvy.

PHOEBE ( nervously ).  'Twas but a passing indisposition, I am almost  quite recovered.

VALENTINE.  Nay, you still require attention.  Do you propose making a  long stay in Quality Street, ma'am?

PHOEBE.  I--I--I hope not.  It--it depends.

MISS SUSAN ( forgetting herself ).  Mary is the worst.

VALENTINE.  I ask your pardon?

PHOEBE.  Aunt Susan, you are excited.

VALENTINE.  But you are quite right, Miss Livvy; home is the place for  you.

PHOEBE.  Would that I could go!

VALENTINE.  You are going.

PHOEBE.  Yes--soon.

VALENTINE.  Indeed, I have a delightful surprise for you, Miss Livvy,  you are going to-day.

PHOEBE.  To-day?

VALENTINE.  Not merely to-day, but now.  As it happens, my carriage is  standing idle at your door, and I am to take you in it to your  home--some twenty miles if I remember.

PHOEBE.  You are to take me?

VALENTINE.  Nay, 'tis no trouble at all, and as your physician my mind  is made up.  Some wraps for her, Miss Susan.

MISS SUSAN.  But--but----

PHOEBE ( in a panic ).  Sir, I decline to go.

VALENTINE.  Come, Miss Livvy, you are in my hands.

PHOEBE.  I decline.  I am most determined.

VALENTINE.  You admit yourself that you are recovered.

PHOEBE.  I do not feel so well now.  Aunt Susan!

MISS SUSAN.  Sir----

VALENTINE.  If you wish to consult Miss Phoebe----

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, no.

VALENTINE.  Then the wraps, Miss Susan.

PHOEBE.  Auntie, don't leave me.

VALENTINE.  What a refractory patient it is.  But reason with her, Miss  Susan, and I shall ask Miss Phoebe for some wraps.

PHOEBE.  Sir!

( To their consternation he goes cheerily into the bedroom .  MISS  PHOEBE  saves herself by instant flight, and nothing but mesmeric  influence keeps  MISS SUSAN  rooted to the blue and white room.  When  he returns he is loaded with wraps, and still cheerfully animated, as  if he had found nothing untoward in  LIVVY'S  bedchamber. )

VALENTINE.  I think these will do admirably, Miss Susan.

MISS SUSAN.  But Phoebe----

VALENTINE.  If I swathe Miss Livvy in these----

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe----

VALENTINE.  She is still busy airing the room.  ( The extraordinary man  goes to the couch as if unable to perceive that its late occupant has  gone, and  MISS SUSAN  watches him, fascinated. )  Come, Miss Livvy,  put these over you.  Allow me--this one over your shoulders, so.  Be so  obliging as to lean on me.  Be brave, ma'am, you cannot fall--my arm is  round you; gently, gently, Miss Livvy; ah, that is better; we are doing  famously; come, come.  Good-bye, Miss Susan, I will take every care of  her.

( He has gone, with the bundle on his arm, but  MISS SUSAN  does not  wake up.  Even the banging of the outer door is unable to rouse her.  It is heard, however, by  MISS PHOEBE,  who steals back into the room,  her cap upon her head to give her courage. )

PHOEBE.  He is gone!  (MISS SUSAN'S  rapt face alarms her. )  Oh,  Susan, was he as dreadful as that?

MISS SUSAN ( in tones unnatural to her ).  Phoebe, he knows all.

PHOEBE.  Yes, of course he knows all now.  Sister, did his face change?  Oh, Susan, what did he say?

MISS SUSAN.  He said 'Good-bye, Miss Susan.' That was almost all he  said.

PHOEBE.  Did his eyes flash fire?

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, it was what he did.  He--he took Livvy with him.

PHOEBE.  Susan, dear, don't say that.  You are not distraught, are you?

MISS SUSAN ( clinging to facts ).  He did; he wrapped her up in a shawl.

PHOEBE.  Susan!  You are Susan Throssel, my love.  You remember me,  don't you?  Phoebe, your sister.  I was Livvy also, you know, Livvy.

MISS SUSAN.  He took Livvy with him.

PHOEBE ( in woe ).  Oh, oh! sister, who am I?

MISS SUSAN.  You are Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  And who was Livvy?

MISS SUSAN.  You were.

PHOEBE.  Thank heaven.

MISS SUSAN.  But he took her away in the carriage.

PHOEBE.  Oh, dear!  ( She has quite forgotten her own troubles now. )  Susan, you will soon be well again.  Dear, let us occupy our minds.  Shall we draw up the advertisement for the reopening of the school?

MISS SUSAN.  I do so hate the school.

PHOEBE.  Come, dear, come, sit down.  Write, Susan.  ( Dictating. )  'The Misses Throssel have the pleasure to announce----'

MISS SUSAN.  Pleasure!  Oh, Phoebe.

PHOEBE.  'That they will resume school on the 5th of next month.  Music, embroidery, the backboard, and all the elegancies of the mind.  Latin--shall we say algebra?'

MISS SUSAN.  I refuse to write algebra.

PHOEBE.  --for beginners.

MISS SUSAN.  I refuse.  There is only one thing I can write; it writes  itself in my head all day.  'Miss Susan Throssel presents her  compliments to the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta Turnbull, and  requests the honour of their presence at the nuptials of her sister  Phoebe and Captain Valentine Brown.'

PHOEBE.  Susan!

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe!  ( A door is heard banging. )  He has returned!

PHOEBE.  Oh cruel, cruel.  Susan, I am so alarmed.

MISS SUSAN.  I will face him.

PHOEBE.  Nay, if it must be, I will.

( But when he enters he is not very terrible. )

VALENTINE.  Miss Phoebe, it is not raining, but your face is wet.  I  wish always to kiss you when your face is wet.

PHOEBE.  Susan!

VALENTINE.  Miss Livvy will never trouble you any more, Miss Susan.  I  have sent her home.

MISS SUSAN.  Oh, sir, how can you invent such a story for us.

VALENTINE.  I did not.  I invented it for the Misses Willoughby and  Miss Henrietta, who from their windows watched me put her into my  carriage.  Patty accompanies her, and in a few hours Patty will return  alone.

MISS SUSAN.  Phoebe, he has got rid of Livvy!

PHOEBE.  Susan, his face hasn't changed!

VALENTINE.  Dear Phoebe Throssel, will you be Phoebe Brown?

PHOEBE ( quivering ).  You know everything?  And that I am not a garden?

VALENTINE.  I know everything, ma'am--except that.

PHOEBE ( so very glad to be prim at the end ).  Sir, the dictates of my  heart enjoin me to accept your too flattering offer.  ( He puts her cap  in his pocket.  He kisses her .  MISS SUSAN  is about to steal away. )  Oh, sir, Susan also.  ( He kisses  MISS SUSAN  also; and here we bid  them good-bye. )

The End.

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