ACT II

SCENE: _Same as Act I_.

_There is a slight rearrangement of furniture and addition of properties. Table and chairs_ L.C., _moved twelve inches nearer center. Armchair put left of table and plain chair right of table. The lamp has been moved from table to top of cabinet_ L., _making room for teatray laid for five people. Also on the tray is a plate containing plum cake, a three-shelf muffin-stand or curate, containing cakes and sandwiches, is placed below cabinet. Sewing bag, purse and army list have been removed. Throat spray for_ PHYLLIS _behind vase on table_ R. _A medicine bottle in room off_ R. _Embroidery on table_ R. _for_ PHYLLIS. _Election speech (a roll of foolscap paper) on cabinet_ L. _for_ TARVER. _Waste-paper basket removed. The curtains are drawn closer than in Act I and card table has been folded and placed against backing and chairs distributed against backing of card room. The ladies are in afternoon house dress and_ FARADAY _in frock or morning coat. All the flowers are changed and autumn varieties replace those of spring. It is eight months later in the late afternoon. Halfway through the act, it grows darker and lights are required, though lights are full up to commence_.

_As the curtain rises_, PHYLLIS _is seated on sofa_ R., _doing some embroidery_. EVELYN _is toying with a book, seated_ L. _of table_ R. MADGE _is at the head of the tea table, pouring tea_. FARADAY _stands to left of table_.

FARADAY. (_Running over the books in book slide_) Where is that army list? It's a great nuisance, not a sign of the army list. The army list has disappeared again. I wanted to write to General Partington this morning and I couldn't find out whether he was a K. C. B. or a K. C. S. I.

(AUNT IDA _enters through card room in outdoor dress and comes directly down_ L.C. _She should show signs of nervous apprehension all through the opening of the Act_.)

MADGE. Tea, Aunt Ida?

AUNT IDA. Please. (_Nervously_) What's the matter, William?

FARADAY. The army list has disappeared again. I haven't seen one for months. Phyllis, will you ask Celia to order another new one? (_Sits left_.)

PHYLLIS I do, Father, every time, but Celia always forgets it.

AUNT IDA. (_Sits on edge of chair_ R. _of table_ L. _On tenter hooks_) Has the Times come yet?

FARADAY. No.

AUNT IDA. It's very late.

FARADAY. (_Getting up and getting muffin-stand from below cabinet, setting it between his knees_) It is always very late. I eat much too much tea every day, waiting for that Times. It's not good for me. (_Selects a big muffin from stand_.)

EVELYN. But, Father, couldn't you make up your mind to restrain yourself?

(_Enter_ MARTIN _through card room_.)

FARADAY. I can make up my mind all right, but I can't restrain myself. (_Bites into the muffin_.)

MARTIN. (_Announcing_) Admiral Grice.

(_Enter_ GRICE _through card room_. MARTIN _comes down_ L. _of table to door_. GRICE _comes down to table_.)

FARADAY. How do you do, Grice? Have some tea.

(_All greet_ ADMIRAL _in casual tones_.)

GRICE. Thanks.

(MADGE _pours him a cup of tea. He takes it and crosses and shakes hands with_ LADY TRENCHARD _and_ PHYLLIS, _then goes and stands below fender_.)

FARADAY. (_Stopping_ MARTIN _at door_ L.) And Martin, see that another army list is bought. Send in to Lumley at once.

MARTIN. _Another_ army list, sir? Yes, sir. (_Exit_ L.IE.)

GRICE. (_In an injured tone_) Celia is not here!

PHYLLIS. She has gone to see old Wilson, young Wilson's father. There is a rumor that he's wavering.

FARADAY. _Wavering_! _Wilson?_ He has some influence, too. I do hate a station master who can't stick to his political principles.

GRICE. What's Wilson's trouble?

EVELYN. Compulsory vaccination. He can't spell it, so he's against it.

GRICE. Silly ass! Well, if anyone can settle him, it will be _Celia_.

PHYLLIS. Yes, isn't she splendid? I believe Celia could make _anybody_ do _anything_.

AUNT IDA. Have you just discovered that?

GRICE. I don't think that's much of a discovery.

AUNT IDA. Nor I.

MADGE. Yes, but Aunt Ida, you never really knew Celia before.

AUNT IDA. Before what?

MADGE. (_Enthusiastically_) Before she was engaged. Before she let herself go, before she showed us all the _Celiaishness_ of _Celia_.

GRICE. There isn't a finer girl in England. (_Puts teacup on mantel_.) No, nor a finer dinner than the one I'm giving her to-night.

(_Enter_ TARVER L.I, _elaborately dressed and spattered with mud. He leans against jamb of door weakly. Everyone but_ AUNT IDA _starts in surprise at sight of_ TARVER. NOTE: AUNT IDA _does not participate in this scene, being wholly engrossed in the matter of the Times_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Starting up, goes toward_ TARVER _a few steps_) Bobby!!!!

TARVER. (_Leaning weakly against door_) I'm dead to the world.

EVELYN. What has happened?

TARVER. The most awful thing.

PHYLLIS. It was that dreadful ordeal of laying the corner stone, I suppose.

GRICE. (_Contemptuously_) They asked you to lay a corner stone?

TARVER. They had to have a _personage_.

OMNES. A personage!

TARVER. You see, the beastly ground was full of puddles and, just as I stepped forward with a trowel in my hand, I slipped, and----

GRICE. And sat down in one of them, I suppose.

TARVER. That's exactly what I did do. Oh! How they all yelled. (_All laugh_, ADMIRAL _loudest. Coming_ C. _and limping_) It's all very well for you to laugh, Admiral, but that puddle may cost us the seat.

FARADAY. Tarver!

GRICE. Tarver! Bring a trowel and a pail of mortar to my garden to-morrow morning at eleven o'clock sharp. I'll teach you _how_ to lay a corner stone. (_Gets his cup, goes up and crosses above sofa to teatable, and puts his cup down_.)

(PHYLLIS _comes_ C. _to_ TARVER.)

TARVER. Oh, Phyllis, where are my voice lozenges?

PHYLLIS. (_Taking his arm sympathetically_) They're all gone, Bobby, but Celia said she would fetch you some.

TARVER. That's kind of her. My throat's awful. Where's the spray?

(PHYLLIS _runs up and around to_ R. _of sofa, getting spray_. TARVER _sits on stool below sofa and_ PHYLLIS _comes down to_ R. _of him_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Spraying his throat_) Never mind, Bobby, there are only ten days more.

TARVER. (_Chokes_) I don't think I can last out the ten days. When that bench broke last night in the middle of my speech, I really thought it was my nervous system gone at last.

GRICE. (_Thunderously. Coming_ C.) Tarver!

TARVER. (_Jumps_) Oh, Admiral, don't speak to me like that or I shall cry.

(PHYLLIS _sits on foot of sofa, her arm on_ TARVER'S _shoulder_.)

GRICE, You made a mistake last night. Canada is not to the north of Alaska.

TARVER. Did I say it was? (PHYLLIS _shakes her head. Looks toward_ PHYLLIS) Oh, how awful!

GRICE. Tarver, you are dining with me to-night.

TARVER. Yes, sir.

GRICE. Bring your Atlas. We will go slowly through the countries of the world in my study afterwards.

PHYLLIS. (_Rises quickly_) Oh, but you can't, Admiral. There's the Philharmonic concert after your dinner party, and we all have to go to it.

TARVER. Yes, and my _opponent_ is going to be there.

PHYLLIS. If Bobby were late, it would produce a bad impression.

GRICE. Then come before dinner.

TARVER. (_Rising_) But, Admiral, I haven't written a word of my election speech yet except "Gentlemen" and that's a _lie_.

GRICE. (_Threateningly_) Tarver! Wilson is not the only elector in the Lumley division who is wavering.

PHYLLIS. (_Starts_) Oh, Admiral!

FARADAY. (_Seated_ L.) You, Grice, you?

PHYLLIS. Oh, you couldn't vote _against Bobby!_

GRICE. Perhaps not, but I might try.

TARVER. Oh! I'll bring my Atlas! (_Speaks despairingly. Turns up_ R., _looking for tonic_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Running to_ ADMIRAL) Oh, yes, Bobby will be delighted to bring his Atlas.

GRICE. Bobby will be delighted to _take away_ his Atlas. (MARTIN _enters_ L.I _with copy of the "London Times" and a small folded periodical on salver_.) Tarver, geography, eight o'clock sharp. Dinner, eight fifteen. (_Turns to table_.)

MARTIN. The Times, sir.

FARADAY. At last.

GRICE. Ah, the Times!

AUNT IDA. (_Rising in alarm and backing up stage from chair_. GRICE _takes her place in chair_.) Oh, the Times, the Times!

TARVER. Oh, Phyllis, where is that bottle of Guy's tonic?

PHYLLIS. It is out here, Bobby. (_Exit in the morning room_.)

TARVER. (_Following her_) Thanks awfully. I needed it badly.

(MADGE _takes periodical and begins to read_. FARADAY _takes the outer sheet of the Times, pulls it off, and throws it across table. It falls to floor_ R. _of table_. GRICE _stoops to pick it up_. EVELYN _takes it from his hand as he rises, saying, "Thank you, Admiral."_ GRICE looks at her disgustedly and sits twiddling his thumbs_. NOTE: _The outer sheets of the Times must be stuck together in order to have them fall properly_. NOTE: The birth, marriage and death column of the Times is in the upper left hand corner of the first page_. EVELYN, MADGE _and_ FARADAY _have become absorbed in their papers_. GRICE _looks about him and then, exasperated, seizes a book and sits_ R. _of table_ L., _reading it_.)

FARADAY. (_After a pause_) I never saw a paper like this. (_Strikes paper with back of his hand_.) There is absolutely nothing in this paper.

(TARVER _and_ PHYLLIS _re-enter, go to fender and sit_. TARVER _has had his clothes brushed_.)

GRICE. I never saw a paper with anything in it. (_Pause_.) How about the bye-elections?

FARADAY. (_Grunting, absorbed in his paper_) Huh! (_Long pause_.)

EVELYN. (_Reading front page_) Oh, Madge, Elsie Hardiman is engaged.

MADGE. Not really?

AUNT IDA. (_From up stage, comes slightly_ R.C. _Uneasily and anxiously watching_ EVELYN) Isn't there--isn't there any other news, Evelyn?

EVELYN. No, dear.

AUNT IDA. Anybody married?

EVELYN. No one we know.

AUNT IDA. (_With a forced attempt at cheerfulness_) Or dead?

EVELYN. (_Absently. Looking over paper_) No, dear. Ab--so--lutely noth---- (_Her eye suddenly lights on_ SMITH'S _death notice. She reads it in pantomime. A look of horror comes over her face and she utters a shrill scream_.)

(_All rise hastily with exclamations_.)

FARADAY. (_Jumping to his feet_) God bless my soul! What's the matter, what's the matter?

TARVER. Great Scott! What's the matter?

MADGE. What _is_ the matter, Evelyn?

GRICE. (_Coming center_) Really, Lady Trenchard, you ought not to startle people like that. It's selfish. (_Goes to her, takes paper from her limp hand and comes down stage_.) What's the news, eh?

FARADAY. (_Taking paper from_ GRICE _with importance, and crossing_ L.) _I'll_ tell you.

EVELYN. (_In hushed whisper_) Father, the deaths, the deaths!

(_During the following scene_, GRICE _is fairly dancing with impatience_.)

FARADAY. (_Reads death notice and sits heavily extreme_ L. _with a sigh_) Poor girl!

MADGE. (_From above table_) Father.

(FARADAY _hands paper to_ MADGE, _saying, "Read, read."_)

PHYLLIS. (_After a slight pause runs across stage to_ MADGE) What is it, Madge?

MADGE. Oh, Phyllis.

PHYLLIS. (_Stands by_ MADGE, _takes paper and reads_) That does seem cruel, doesn't it?

GRICE. Why do people want to keep the news to themselves? (_Takes paper away from_ PHYLLIS _and comes down_ C. _He reads_) Whew! (_Stands ruminating_) Well, well, well, well! (_Holds paper to him_.)

TARVER. (_Seated in chair below fender. Plaintively_) Will somebody kindly tell _me_ what's happened?

GRICE. Always thinking of yourself, Tarver. (_Reads slowly and impressively_) "On October the 11th--of wounds--at Berbera, Somaliland--Colonel Smith."

TARVER. (_Feeling that he must say something_) On October the 11th--that is tough, isn't it?

FARADAY. Yes, it's hard. I've been inquiring about rooms at the Club. I didn't expect this.

PHYLLIS. (_At head of table_) It's more terribly and cruelly hard on Celia than it would be upon _any other woman_.

GRICE. (_Putting paper on table_) Why?

PHYLLIS. Because---- (_Breaks off_.) Don't you remember the night when she told us of her engagement eight months ago. She said then that her betrothal would make an extraordinary difference in her life.

(_READY Doorbell_.)

EVELYN. Then she wasn't happy. Now she is.

MADGE. And when she is, this blow falls without even a telegram to break the force of it.

PHYLLIS. It is too horrible. Nothing but an announcement in the Times sent by post.

(NOTE: _The voices in each succeeding line should descend in scale_.)

MADGE. On October the 11th----

TARVER. Of wounds----

FARADAY. At Berbera----

EVELYN. Somaliland----

GRICE. Colonel Smith----

TARVER. (_Rising and coming_ L. _to stool below table_) By Jove! If Celia withdraws from the _contest_, I'm done.

(_Doorbell rings off_ L. TARVER _sits on stool_.)

GRICE. (_Alarmed_) Wasn't that the front doorbell?

MADGE. (_Coming down stage_) Who is to break the news to her?

GRICE. (_Pauses, looks around and suddenly points to_ TARVER) _Tarver_.

TARVER. (_Springs to his feet in horror_) Me? No, no. I think it needs a woman's voice. (_Waving his hands feebly up and down in front of him_) A woman's gentle fingers.

FARADAY. God bless my soul! It isn't going to be broken to her in the deaf and dumb alphabet.

EVELYN. Let's leave Father to break the sad news to her.

FARADAY. Me! No, no. I might break down. Someone outside the family would have more command over their emotions. Some old, warm-hearted friend. (_Pause, while_ GRICE _shows alarm_.) Grice, for instance.

GRICE. _Me!_ No, no. Ah! I have an idea. (_Comes down stage, and_ FARADAY, MADGE, EVELYN _and_ TARVER _gather about him_, FARADAY L., MADGE L.C., GRICE C., EVELYN R.C., TARVER R. _Slowly, seriously and impressively_) Let us all break it to her--gently--when she comes into the room. I'll give the signal--one, two, three and then we'll all say together and very gently, "Colonel Smith is dead." (_Looks for approval and they all turn away in disgust_.)

(FARADAY _goes extreme_ L., MADGE _back to head of table_ L., TARVER _extreme_ R. _and_ EVELYN _to chair_ R.C.)

AUNT IDA. (_Coming down stage_) Hadn't you better leave it to me?

(_All show tremendous relief_.)

MADGE. Of course.

FARADAY. You are the very person.

GRICE. Hush! Now everybody try to be quite calm and natural and act as though nothing whatever had happened. Oh!!! The Times!

(_All rush for the Times_. GRICE _seizes outer sheet of Times and looks wildly about for some place to hide it. In desperation, he thrusts it up his coat at the back_. PHYLLIS _seizes a sheet, runs up and hides it under piano cover_. MADGE _also seizes a sheet and hides it behind curtain of card room_. GRICE _sits_ R. _of_ L. _table. Everyone assumes strained positions with set grins on their faces. Enter_ CELIA, L.I _entrance. She brings with her two small packages wrapped in tissue paper. She is dressed elaborately in outdoor costume and carries a light muff_.)

CELIA. (_Brightly_) Good afternoon, everybody.

(_All give a short, nervous giggle, pause and then say together, "Good afternoon, Celia"_ CELIA _crosses to chair_ L. _of table_.)

FARADAY. (_Coming down_ L. _of_ CELIA, _offering to take her muff_) Allow me, dear.

CELIA. (_Giving it to him_) Oh! Thank you, Father.

(FARADAY _holds both his hands in muff_. PHYLLIS _solicitously takes_ CELIA'S _gloves_.)

MADGE. (_In a bereaved tone, offering her a cup of tea_) Celia, dear, have some tea?

(FARADAY _goes up and around to back_, R.C.)

CELIA. No, thanks, Madge. I've been having tea with the Duchess. Oh, how do you do, Admiral. (_Shaking hands across table with_ GRICE) You don't know how I'm looking forward to your dinner party to-night. (_Sits_ L. _of table_ L., _unwrapping two small parcels and placing tissue paper on book slide_.)

GRICE. (_Very gloomily_) It was a good dinner. I suppose that now----

(FARADAY _coughs and all in a strained whisper say, "Admiral!"_)

TARVER. (_Rising and coming_ C.) Did you manage to catch Wilson? (TARVER'S _question shocks all_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Trying to hush him_) Bobby!

EVELYN. (_In a hoarse whisper_) Just at this time, too.

CELIA. No, Bobby, he was out; but see what I brought you--some throat lozenges and a box to keep them in.

TARVER. (_Comes to her at foot of table and takes boxes from her. Lugubriously_) It's awfully good of you to think of me, Celia. (_Crosses back to_ L.C.) Just at this time, too.

(EVELYN _pulls_ TARVER _violently around_ R. _He staggers across stage and falls in chair extreme_ R.)

OMNES. Hush!!!

(GRICE _glares at_ TARVER, PHYLLIS _and_ MADGE _offer_ CELIA _tea_, FARADAY _the muffin-stand, and_ GRICE _offers her the plate of cake. All this is done quickly and simultaneously_.)

PHYLLIS. You had better have some tea, Celia.

GRICE. (_Smiling at her_) Cake, with plums in it.

CELIA. (_Laughing_) You are all very kind to me this afternoon.

(_They all turn away hurriedly, quickly putting down the things they have been offering_ CELIA _and laughing nervously_.)

OMNES. Not at all, dear. Not unusually so. Not a bit. (_Etc., etc_.)

GRICE. Cake, with plums in it.

CELIA. (_Exchanges looks with_ AUNT IDA, _who has worked down_ L. _after_ FARADAY _has gone up_ C. AUNT IDA _nods her head. Indifferently_) Any news in the Times?

OMNES. _The Times? The Times? Why, no, I don't imagine so. Have you seen the Times? Now where has Martin put that Times?_ (_Etc., etc_. NOTE: _This should come to a crescendo and then die down_.)

EVELYN. (_In a loud, hoarse whisper to_ TARVER) Oh, say something.

TARVER. (_Very nervously_) No, I don't think there was anything, was there, Admiral?

GRICE. (_Mournfully, staring straight ahead of him_) Nothing very lively.

OMNES. (_In a strained whisper_) Admiral!

FARADAY. (_To relieve situation. Gayly_) Now where has the Times got to?

(TARVER _rises and looks in fireplace, muttering to himself_.)

PHYLLIS _and_ MADGE. Where is the Times? Have you seen the Times? I wonder what could have happened to it? (_Etc_.)

(GRICE _rises and turns_ R. _and starts up stage. The Times falls out from his back. There is general consternation_.)

CELIA. (_Seeing Times on floor_) Why, there it is, isn't it?

FARADAY. (_In mock, great surprise_) God bless my soul! So it is.

(TARVER _sinks down on fender_.)

GRICE. (_Coming down stage and picking up paper_) Now, how did that get there?

CELIA. May I see it, if everyone has quite finished? (_Holds out hand for paper_. GRICE _reluctantly gives paper to her. She opens it and reads. All watch her, strained and anxiously. Cheerfully_) Births, marriages, deaths. I always look first at that column, you know. (_After a pause. Laughing a little_) How very amusing!

OMNES. Amusing? Celia!! Great Scott! God bless my soul!

CELIA. (_Reading_) "On October the 11th----"

EVELYN. (_Almost with a sob_) _Eleventh!_

CELIA. "Elsie Hardiman to Alfred Bryce." (_All give tremendous sigh of relief. Looking up_) Why didn't somebody tell me Elsie Hardiman was engaged?

FARADAY. (_Comes to chair_ R. _of_ L. _table and lays muff down on book rack_) I wouldn't go into that, Celia. I wouldn't pursue _that_ line of inquiry any further if I were _you_, my dear. (_Tries to take paper_.)

CELIA. (_Retaining her hold on paper_) I just want to see if anybody is dead, Father. (_Puts out a hand surreptitiously and pulls_ AUNT IDA _near her. They all watch her with tragic anxiety. She sees notice, reads it, and utters a long, low cry of grief, then lets paper drop on table and with another long moan, rises and buries her face in_ AUNT IDA'S _shoulder_.)

(TARVER _curls up in chair extreme_ R., _pulling his moustache_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Making sympathetic motion forward_) Celia--darling.

AUNT IDA. (_Waving her handkerchief up and down_) Sh--sh--sh--sh! (_They stand in grief-stricken attitudes, contemplating her_.)

FARADAY. (_Brokenly_) Celia--my child----

AUNT IDA. (_Waving her handkerchief up and down_) Sh--sh--sh--sh!

EVELYN. _Poor Celia!_

AUNT IDA. Sh--sh--sh--sh! (_Pause_.) I think--she will--say something soon.

CELIA. (_Raising a flushed, quivering face from_ AUNT IDA'S _shoulder_) So you were all--trying to keep this--from me?

GRICE. (_Coming down_ R.) God help us, we were. (_Takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes_.)

PHYLLIS. Ah--Celia.

AUNT IDA. (_In same queer, choked way_) Wouldn't it be better if you all left her alone--with me?

FARADAY. (_Much relieved_) Quite so. Quite so. Come, children. (_Crosses a few steps up and right. The girls, with_ PHYLLIS _first_, MADGE, _then_ EVELYN, _form a line and, with bowed heads and folded hands, walk across the morning room door_. TARVER _rises and walks mournfully up to door_.) Come, Admiral.

GRICE. (_Crossing up_ R.) No, Faraday. I'll take my leave from this house of grief. (_Exits through card room_.)

CELIA. (_Comes_ L.C.) Wait, Father. (_The girls halt in doorway_, TARVER _above sofa_) I only want to say that I don't intend to let this news make any difference--outwardly. You see you never knew what I knew--about him, so I can't expect you to realize all that I've lost. I don't see what's to be gained by any parade of grief, so I'll go to this dinner party to-night and try to act as though nothing whatever had happened.

TARVER. (_Beaming_) That's splendid of you, Celia. It's much the wisest not to give way to sorrow. But you will get those votes you promised me, won't you?

FARADAY. Take him away. Take him away.

(EVELYN _whirls_ TARVER _around and hands him unceremoniously off the stage_. FARADAY _exits. There is a pause, then_ AUNT IDA _and_ CELIA _burst into hearty laughter_. AUNT IDA _crosses to table_ R., _sits, and_ CELIA _sits on the arm of her chair_.)

CELIA. Oh, Aunt Ida. Didn't we get through that splendidly?

(GRICE _re-enters through card room. They quickly turn their laughter into sobs and bury their faces in their handkerchiefs_.)

GRICE. (_Coming down_ C.) I have been lingering, my dear Miss Faraday, just to grasp your hand and whisper a word of cheer. Keep up your heart, my dear. Keep up your heart. Remember there are other fish in the sea--big fish. (_Bows and elaborately exits through card room_.)

CELIA. Old fool!--Isn't it a mercy I'm going to escape that sort of thing? There'd be a dozen more if I gave them a chance, but instead of that I'm going with you to Chicago to live and die a spinster with an unawakened soul.

AUNT IDA. (_In a high tragedy tone_) Celia, I have a queer feeling we're not done with this thing yet.

CELIA. Why, of course we are, you dear; the steamship tickets are up in my room and I'm going with you to-morrow when you leave on the noon train. What a brick you've been through it all, Aunt Ida, what a brick!

AUNT IDA. (_Laughing, then recovering herself and endeavoring to be moral. Crossing_ L.) You--you--you must never do it again, Celia.

CELIA. Well, it's hardly the sort of thing one _can_ do _very often_.

AUNT IDA. (_Seriously_) I never would have helped you send that notice to the Times, Celia, if--if--oh, dear. (_Breaks down and laughs. Severely_) Oh, but I consider your whole attitude _most_ immoral.

CELIA. (_Meekly_) Yes, Aunt Ida. I admit my behavior has been shocking and what a contrast to his. (_Laughs_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Reprovingly_) Celia!

CELIA. Poor Colonel Smith! What harm has he ever done? Was ever a career more blameless? He lifted me down from the shelf. _Dear Colonel Smith!_ He died just at the right moment. _Dear_ Colonel Smith. Oh, you know he was a true soldier. He did his work in silence. Well, peace to his ashes. Dear Colonel Smith! Good gracious, dear, it's getting late. It's time to dress for dinner. (_She seizes_ AUNT IDA _by the arm, gayly whirls her around, crosses and gets her muff from table_.)

(_Enter_ PHYLLIS _through morning room_ R. _Runs down_ R. _of sofa, calling, "Celia." They resume attitudes of grief_. AUNT IDA _exits through morning room, holding her handkerchief to her eyes_.)

PHYLLIS. (_Comes_ C. _to_ CELIA) Celia!

CELIA. Yes, dear.

PHYLLIS. I want you to help me. Bobby is frightfully tired. Don't you think that he and I could cut the Admiral's dinner party and dine quietly at home here? You could make it all right with the Admiral, Celia.

(_Enter_ MARTIN, _with salver and card_, L.IE., _leaves door open_.)

CELIA. I'll try, dear. Martin, there will be two for dinner after all.

PHYLLIS. And may we dine in the little morning room here? (_Indicating morning room_.)

CELIA. In the morning room?

PHYLLIS. It will be more snug.

CELIA. Oh, very well, then, Martin. Dinner in the morning room. (MARTIN _offers card to_ CELIA.) I haven't time to see anyone now. (_Crosses_ R. _to door_) Who is it?

MARTIN. Colonel James Nugent Vavasour. He was sure that you would consent to see him, Miss, when you saw this card.

CELIA. Vavasour? Vavasour? It's some election business, of course. Phyllis, it's your affair, after all. Attend to it for me, won't you?

PHYLLIS. Very well. (CELIA _exits_ R. MARTIN _brings the card over to_ PHYLLIS. PHYLLIS _takes card, reads it and utters a cry_) Colonel Smith! Then, then--then? (_Bewildered_) Then he is not dead. It's a mistake. (_Runs to door_ R. _as if to recall_ CELIA.)

MARTIN. It is Colonel Vavasour who has called, Miss. (_Goes up to tea-table, gets tray and dishes_.)

PHYLLIS. But it's Colonel Smith's card. (_Turns card over suddenly_) Oh, it is a message. (_Goes to_ L. _of table_ R., _sits and turns up the lamp_.) Written in a failing hand. (_Reads_) "_Good-bye_. Be kind to my friend, James Nugent Vavasour." (_To_ MARTIN, _who has by now collected the dishes on tray and is below table_ R.) Show Colonel Vavasour in and then ask Miss Faraday to come down as quickly as she can. Just say that it really is important.

MARTIN. Yes, Miss.

(PHYLLIS _comes_ L.C. _quickly and arranges her hair, etc_. MARTIN _re-enters, announcing_ COLONEL VAVASOUR. COLONEL SMITH _enters and stands_. MARTIN _closes door quietly, goes up_ L., _crosses it back, turns on lamp on piano and exits through morning room_.)

SMITH. (_Bowing_) I am speaking to Miss Celia Faraday?

PHYLLIS. (_Holding card in her hand_) Oh, no. I'm her much younger sister, but I have sent for her. Won't you sit down, Colonel Vavasour? (_Sits_ R. _of_ L. _table_. SMITH _sits_ L.) The card which you sent me proves that your errand is a sad one. I want to ask you to be very gentle in delivering your message to Celia. The news of Colonel Smith's death was first conveyed to her in to-day's "Times."

SMITH. I am not very surprised to hear that.

PHYLLIS. (_Melodramatically_) The bolt fell from a clear sky. She received no telegram, no letter to warn her of the impending destruction of her happiness. (_Places card on table_.)

SMITH. (_Meaningly_) No, indeed. How could she?

PHYLLIS. She was happy. She loved and was loved. (SMITH _turns and looks at her_.) And then in a second comes Fate with its cruel shears----

SMITH. (_Interrupting her_) Excuse me, but do you write for the Sunday papers?

PHYLLIS. No, but I have been listening lately to a great number of election speeches.

SMITH. I quite understand. From them those flowers of eloquence were culled. Please go on.

PHYLLIS. Celia bore the blow with remarkable courage. But now comes your _visit_, which will upset her even more than the news of Colonel Smith's death itself.

SMITH. Yes, Miss Faraday, I am quite sure that it will do that. You have made an appeal to me to deliver my harrowing message as delicately as I can. You can help me not to make mistakes.

PHYLLIS. How?

SMITH. By telling me where the lovers met, when they became engaged--and how it all happened.

PHYLLIS. But you came with Colonel Smith's card and words of recommendation written upon it by his failing hand. Didn't he tell you?

SMITH. Well, you see, he was one of those great-hearted men who never speak about themselves. And towards the end, when he might have spoken, he was singularly comatose.

PHYLLIS. (_Sympathetically_) Poor fellow!

SMITH. Oh, it's dreadful--dreadful! I suppose your sister was very devoted to him?

PHYLLIS. She _adored_ him!!

SMITH. Yes. That's the part I understand best.

PHYLLIS. But Celia's engagement meant more to her than it would to most women.

SMITH. (_Recoils slightly_) Why?

PHYLLIS. It had somehow got into everybody's head that Celia didn't--(_Looks around room_)--attract people. Poor old Celia. (SMITH _turns uneasily in chair_.) Of course, her engagement altered the whole position.

SMITH. Oh, I begin to see.

PHYLLIS. It was the night that _I_ had just announced my engagement to Mr. Tarver.--Bobby was so witty about poor old Celia having to wear _another_ pair of Green Stockings at _my_ wedding----

SMITH. Ah--h-- Then there are other sisters?

PHYLLIS. Yes, there's Madge. She is between Celia and myself.

SMITH. Engaged?

PHYLLIS. _More_ than engaged--_married_. And then comes Evelyn.

SMITH. Married?

PHYLLIS. Much _more_ than married. (SMITH _stares_.) A widow.

SMITH. And Miss Celia is the eldest of you all?

PHYLLIS. Oh, yes. Well, the moment after Celia was told of _my_ engagement, she announced _hers_.

SMITH. To Colonel Smith. (_Turns away from her with sudden understanding_.) I see.

PHYLLIS. (_More melodramatically_) You know she had met him at Southampton. (SMITH _looks at her_.) For a week they had been together. (SMITH _turns in his chair_.) Only that morning he had told her of his love. An hour later he was steaming down Southampton Water to leave his neglected bones on the arid wastes of a----

SMITH. (_Interrupting her_) Ahem! You'll excuse me----

PHYLLIS. I beg pardon. He was on his way to Somaliland. She wrote to him that night.

SMITH. (_Slowly_) Yes, the letter reached him. (_Tapping his pocket_) I have it here.

PHYLLIS. (_Sentimentally_) He kept it?

SMITH. Yes, he kept it. He used to sit and study it by the hour.

PHYLLIS. How truly beautiful. Oh, you must tell Celia that. You mustn't rob her of any of her grief.

SMITH. No, that would be too bad. So there was no opportunity for Smith to come and make your acquaintance?

PHYLLIS. No, but I have heard so much of him from Celia that I could almost believe I see him. (_Stares dreamily at_ SMITH. SMITH _rises slowly, a little disconcerted_. PHYLLIS _rising and moving_ R.) I'll go and send Celia to you.

(MARTIN _enters through morning room_.)

SMITH. Thanks. Now I know where I am.

MARTIN. (_Stands up_ R.) Miss Faraday is coming down, Miss. (_Crosses and exits_ L., _lighting chandelier in card room_.)

PHYLLIS. Very well, Martin. Then I'll leave you to deliver your message alone. (_Crosses to door_ R. _and opens it, then turns_) You have brought, I hope, one or two mementoes from him----

SMITH. (_Puzzled for a moment_) I beg your pardon?

PHYLLIS. Little things that Celia can treasure.

SMITH. Oh, yes, yes. A few small things--trifles which Smith habitually wore.

PHYLLIS. (_Sentimentally_) Just what she will value most. (_Exits_ R.IE.)

(SMITH _chuckles. He looks at his ring, but can't get it off, then at his knife. That won't do. Then at his cigarette case. That will not do. Also at his bunch of keys. That won't do. He reluctantly takes watch and chain from his waistcoat and looks about for something to wrap it up in. He sees the tissue paper which Celia has left on book slide, gets it and wraps watch and chain up in it, putting it in his pocket. He takes out his scarf pin, looks at it, starts to replace it in tie. He reconsiders and wraps that up too, putting it in his pocket. He hums a snatch of song for_ CELIA'S _entrance_. CELIA _enters in evening dress_ R. _Comes_ R.C. SMITH _does not look up_.)

CELIA. Colonel Vavasour. (_She speaks briskly, having no suspicion of his business_. SMITH _bows almost reverentially, sighs deeply. Looks as if about to speak, is silent. His head is bowed. Impatiently_) I am told that you wish to see me on important business.

(SMITH _nods head sadly. He looks up and, on seeing_ CELIA, _starts with pleasurable surprise for a moment_.)

SMITH. Upon important and lugubrious business.

CELIA. Oh--? Don't tell me there's some new difficulty about Mr. Tarver's election?

SMITH. I have come to speak to you about one who is dearer to you than all the world. (CELIA _is perplexed_.) As soon as I read the announcement in the "Times" this morning--I felt that I must come to you at once.

CELIA. (_Pause_) The announcement!--in the "Times"! (_She is startled. Stares at_ SMITH.)

SMITH. Of the death of Colonel Smith.

(CELIA _is amazed; turns away quickly_.)

CELIA. You will forgive me, I am sure, Colonel Vavasour, but the news of my loss is so recent that you will understand my reluctance to discuss it with a stranger. (_She moves up toward morning room as though to exit_.)

SMITH. Don't go, please. (CELIA _turns back_.) It was your sister who took the card which introduces me. (_He takes up card from table_ L.) See!

(CELIA _advances_ L. _of table_ R. _and takes card_.)

CELIA. "Colonel Smith." But there wasn't any--I _mean_ (_Sits in chair_.) Colonel Vavasour, I am a little overwhelmed.

SMITH. (_Sympathetically_) I was afraid you would be.

CELIA. (_Staring at card_) Colonel Smith!

SMITH. I bring to you his last dying message.

CELIA. You--knew--him!

SMITH. (_Comes to her_) Turn that card over and read the last words written by his failing hand.

(CELIA _turns card over_.)

CELIA. "Good-bye."

SMITH. Yes. (_Sniffs. Very sadly_) "Good-bye."

CELIA. "Be kind to--my friend----"

SMITH. "James Nugent----"

CELIA. "Vavasour----"

SMITH. Col. Smith was my dearest friend. And knowing myself as I do, I can safely say that no one else will ever take his place in my affections.

CELIA. How extraordinary---- (SMITH _looks at her_.) I mean--how very unselfish of you.

SMITH. Ah, yes. He compelled one's love. _I_ can appreciate possibly better than any one else how great must be your grief. (CELIA _agrees mournfully and regards him with ludicrous suspicion. Goes to table_ L. _and sits_ L. _of it_) Before coming here, I went to see his dear old people. He had never told them of his engagement, but he was always secretive.

CELIA. Yes, very secretive.

SMITH. His dear little Aunt Mary was very fond of him.

CELIA. Oh! Little Aunt Mary!

SMITH. And when I told her of your engagement, she was most anxious to meet you.

CELIA. Yes, that would be very delightful--but not just yet, please--not just yet.

SMITH. Not just yet, of course not just yet. But possibly when time has reconciled you to your loss. She expressed the hope that some day--but not just yet, of course, you and she might journey together to Somaliland with a wreath.

CELIA. Yes. (_Choking and turning away her head_.) That's a very sweet idea. We might go out for the Xmas holidays.

SMITH. Oh, I know. I can gauge, Miss Faraday, the measure of your grief by my own. But there is just one alleviation which I am very glad to bring to you.

CELIA. What is that, please?

SMITH. When Colonel Smith died--of wounds--at Berbera, he died without any pain.

CELIA. (_Rising, alarmed_) It is very good of you, Colonel Vavasour, to have come all the way from London to tell me this. (_Starts as if to exit, holding out her hand to_ SMITH.)

(SMITH _also rises, takes her hand and detains her_ C.)

SMITH. This--and more. I was with him at the last. How well I remember the scene. He used to lie on his sick bed-gazing across the thatched roofs of Berbera to the Arab dhows riding at their anchors in the sea. (_She turns away_ R.) And he gave into my hands a few small things to bring you. (CELIA _turns away, horrified_.) Trifles which he habitually wore. Here are a few of them. (_Brings out packages containing watch and pin from pockets_.)

CELIA. Heavens!! No!--I couldn't think of taking them.

SMITH. (_In surprise, holding them towards_ CELIA) They were Smith's, and you couldn't _take_ them! Ah, I understand. You had quarreled. (_Puts things into pockets_.)

CELIA. No, we _never_ quarreled. There was never one harsh word spoken by me to him or by him to me.

SMITH. (L.C. _Standing_) Then why refuse his gifts?

CELIA. (_Goes to table_ R. _At a loss_) Well--you see--he had never given me anything.

SMITH. (_Suddenly smiles and brings out parcels again_) How like Smith! How very like him! Even he had his failings. But we, who knew him so well, can afford to speak of them frankly.

CELIA. I don't think you understand, Colonel Vavasour. Gifts would have been impossible in such an engagement as that which existed between him and me.

SMITH. (_Severely_) Let Smith be the judge of that. (_Goes a step toward her_) Perhaps he is in this room now watching you refuse his gifts. (CELIA _moves_ R., _uneasily looking back over her shoulder. Sternly_) Watching you with the pain he didn't feel when he died of wounds at Berbera. (_He follows her and forces her to take the watch. She gingerly takes it and unwraps it, letting the watch fall out and hang by the chain, which she holds. It is a large, heavy gold watch of the "turnip" variety_.) His watch and chain. (_She lifts it up and down to show its weight_.) He bids you wear it always on your bosom. (_She recoils. Pleadingly_) To please Smith, whom we both loved. (_She looks helplessly about for a moment and then, in essaying to hang the watch about her neck, it slips and falls down inside her dress. They turn away from each other with varying emotions. Turning back_) By Jove! I say that's ripping of you.

CELIA. I beg your pardon, sir!

SMITH. (_Solemnly_) I am thanking you in my dead comrade's name, my dearest friend. (_Bows his head_.)

CELIA. (_Crossing him to_ L.) Oh, I didn't understand.

SMITH. (_Unwraps second parcel and follows her across the stage_) With this, Smith pinned his tie--a curious jewel. He was very fond of it. I trust you will treasure it. (CELIA _tries to refuse pin, but_ SMITH _forces it upon her. Goes through and empties all his pockets, offering cigarette case, knife, keys, etc_.) And here I have a few more things.

CELIA. (_With a gesture of horror, retreats up stage to card room_) No, no, no, no, please! I don't want them. I----

(TARVER _enters through morning room in dinner jacket. He shows surprise at seeing_ SMITH. SMITH _replaces articles in his pockets_.)

TARVER. (_At door_ R.) Oh, I am so sorry. I didn't know you were engaged. I think I left my election speech somewhere.

CELIA. (_Eagerly coming down_ C.) That's quite all right, Bobby. We have finished our business. Good-bye, Colonel Vavasour. It is extremely kind of you to have taken all this trouble for a stranger. (_Crosses down_ R. _as though to exit_.)

(TARVER _crosses to cabinet_ L. _and gets his speech_.)

SMITH. (_Follows_ CELIA _to_ L.C.) But I haven't delivered a single word of the message I am pledged to deliver.

TARVER. (_Picks up speech and comes down_ L. _of table to_ L. _of_ SMITH) I'm just going.

SMITH. Don't let me drive you away, Mr.--Mr.---- (_Looks to_ CELIA _to introduce him to_ TARVER.)

(CELIA _has turned and walked up stage_.)

TARVER. Oh, my name is Tarver.

SMITH. And mine is Nugent Vavasour. How do you do? I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_Shakes hands with him warmly_.) I have just met Miss Phyllis Faraday.

TARVER. Oh, have you?

SMITH. Yes. I am just back from Somaliland.

TARVER. Are you? I say! I don't suppose you could stay a little longer and help me with my election, could you?

(CELIA, _in alarm, rushes to head of table and seizes railway guide_.)

SMITH. (_Enthusiastically_) Of course I could, my dear fellow. Why didn't you mention it before?

TARVER. Well, I haven't waited _very_ long.

CELIA. (_Looking at railway guide_) Bobby, we couldn't think of making such a demand upon Colonel Vavasour's time.

TARVER. Well, it's touch and go with me, you know.

SMITH. And I know a great deal about elections.

TARVER. (_To_ CELIA) There!

SMITH. Yes. I was once on the Committee of a Club.

(TARVER _looks puzzled_.)

CELIA. (_Looking at guide. Firmly_) There's an excellent train leaving at eight-thirty. (_Lays down guide, pushes chair aside and walks down_ R.C. _between chair and table_.)

SMITH. I shall be most happy if I can catch it, but I should be false to my friend if I went without delivering his last dying message.

TARVER. You can't deliver it to-night, for Celia is going out to a dinner party.

(CELIA _gives_ BOBBY _a swift, furious glance behind_ SMITH'S _back_.)

SMITH. (_Shocked_) To a dinner party?

TARVER. Why, yes, and on to a concert afterwards.

CELIA. (_With great dignity_) It's a classical concert. (_Pause_.) By the local Philharmonic Society, and Admiral Grice, with whom we are all dining, is the most important person in the constituency.

SMITH. (_Sternly_) So you are all going out to enjoy yourselves.

TARVER. (_Crossing_ R. _and up stage_) Oh, _they_ are. Phyllis and I for once are going to stay at home and dine quietly.

SMITH. (_Turns toward_ TARVER _and stops him at door_) But is it wise for you, Mr. Tarver, to stay at home at this very critical time? I should have thought, knowing as much as I do about elections, that it was bad policy to offend so important a person as Admiral Grice.

TARVER. (_In doorway_) Oh, that's all right. Celia can twist him around her little finger. He simply worships----

(CELIA, _who has made a ball of the tissue paper on the table, throws it at_ BOBBY, _who exits hurriedly without_ SMITH'S _seeing this_.)

SMITH. (_Sternly. Going to her_) You never loved him.

CELIA. (_Indignantly. Moving_ R.) Oh!

SMITH. On the evening of the very day which brings you news of his decease, you are dressed to conquer and allure.

CELIA. (_More indignant_) Colonel Vavasour!

SMITH. You know as well as I do how at all times Smith disapproved of a decollete gown. Born and brought up in a rigid and unbending family, he never quite emancipated himself from the principles of Calvinism. You know that? (_He waits for her to answer_.)

CELIA. (_Weakly. Sinks on stool at bottom of sofa_) Yes.

SMITH. (_Looks at her_) And it's not even black--! A dinner party with an amorous Admiral. After the dinner party, the wildest gaieties! (_Goes_ L.)

CELIA. Do you call a classical concert by the local Philharmonic Society "the wildest gaiety"? You never heard one.

SMITH. (_Reproachfully. Coming back to_ CELIA) You know what a low opinion Smith had of all forms of music. Dangerously sensuous. How often have I heard him breathe those words when the regimental band struck up the tune of "Auld Lang Syne." (_She rises; goes_ R.) You never loved him. Give me back the watch and chain.

CELIA. (_Confused_) I can't---- You utterly fail to understand the situation, Colonel Vavasour. All the help that any of us can give is needed at this election. To-night is particularly important. The two candidates are to meet on neutral ground.

SMITH. Then certainly Mr. Tarver ought to go--not you.

CELIA. But I ask you, would Colonel Smith have wished me at a time like this to shut myself alone In my room with nothing but his memory for my companion?

SMITH. He'd have loved it.

FARADAY. (_Entering through morning room in evening dress, carrying coat and hat_) Ready, Celia, ready! (CELIA _and_ SMITH _separate_, SMITH _going well_ L. FARADAY _puts coat and hat on piano stool and comes down_ C.) Aren't the others down yet?

CELIA. Father, this is Colonel Vavasour.

FARADAY. How do you do? (_They shake hands_.)

SMITH. How do you do? I have just returned from Somaliland.

FARADAY. Oh! Then you knew----

(SMITH _nods; drops his head_.)

SMITH. My dearest friend.

FARADAY. Poor fellow! Poor fellow! (SMITH _looks up_.) Oh, not for that reason--not for that reason, of course. (LADY TRENCHARD, MADGE _and_ PHYLLIS _enter, in evening dress, followed by_ TARVER.) My daughters, Colonel Vavasour. We are only waiting for your aunt now.

(LADY TRENCHARD _shakes hands gushingly, crosses to_ SMITH _and sits_ R. _of table_ L., _drawing on her gloves_. MADGE _merely bows as she crosses and joins_ EVELYN. PHYLLIS _crosses, and joins them_. SMITH _goes_ R.C. FARADAY _has gone_ L. _at back and comes down stage_ L. _of table_ L. TARVER _goes directly and sits on fender_.)

FARADAY. (_Continuing_) Sorry we can't keep you to dinner.

CELIA. (_Sits on lower end of sofa_) That's quite all right, Father. Colonel Vavasour is obliged to return to London to-night. There is an excellent train at eight-thirty.

SMITH. (_Takes up railway guide which_ CELIA _has left open on table and reads_) "Stops at every station, has a two hours' wait at Bletchley, and arrives in London at three-thirty in the morning." (_Looks at_ CELIA) An excellent train. The express goes at ten.

FARADAY. Then of course you'll stay and dine here first. Martin shall look after you.

SMITH. I shall be most happy. (_At_ CELIA) I have brought a message for Miss Faraday and I shall be unable to deliver it if she goes out to dinner.

CELIA. (_Speaking over her shoulder_) Father, you know I promised you this afternoon that I should not let this news interfere----

FARADAY. But, my dear child, thinking it over, we can't expect such a sacrifice.

PHYLLIS. (_In a whisper to_ MADGE) But she must go. There's only dinner for two.

FARADAY. Dinner for two! What two?

TARVER. (_Coming down_ R. _to door_) Well, you see, I am worn to a shadow, and Phyllis and I thought----

FARADAY. (_Coming_ C.) Oh, you did! Did you? You get elected first, my lad, and think afterwards.

TARVER. Oh, I say!

FARADAY. Phyllis and Tarver shall dine with Admiral Grice.

PHYLLIS. But, Father----

FARADAY. Celia and Colonel Vavasour shall stay behind and eat _their_ dinner.

TARVER. You don't know how I need a rest.

CELIA. Yes, Father, Bobby is very tired.

SMITH. As for myself, and I know a great deal about elections, I think it would be extremely prejudical if Mr. Tarver didn't go.

FARADAY. Then that settles it.

(TARVER _exits_ R.IE., _looking back belligerently at_ COLONEL VAVASOUR. EVELYN _in dumb show tells_ PHYLLIS _to get her wraps, and_ PHYLLIS _flounces out through morning room_.)

MARTIN. (_Entering_ L.I _and announcing_) Mr. Steele and Mr. Raleigh.

(RALEIGH _comes_ C. _quickly to_ FARADAY. STEELE, _shaking hands first with_ EVELYN, _then stepping back and shaking hands with_ MADGE, _speaks from_ L. _of_ MADGE _near door_.)

STEELE. How do you do, Mr. Faraday?

FARADAY. Good evening, boys.

STEELE. We have both, I believed, arrived with the same idea. We are all going to the dinner party, aren't we? I have my mother's brougham and, since you are rather a large party--(_Looking across at_ CELIA)--I thought I might be allowed to give _some one_ a lift.

RALEIGH. _I_ have come in _my own motor car_, and since you are rather a large party--(_Also looking pointedly at_ CELIA)--I thought I might be allowed to give some one a lift.

FARADAY. It is very kind of you boys to think of us. We shall be a little bit squeezed. We _are_ rather a large party, though Celia is not going.

STEELE _and_ RALEIGH. (_Disappointedly_) Not going?

FARADAY. No. Colonel Smith is dead. (STEELE _and_ RALEIGH _turn away and a slow smile breaks over their faces_.) This is Colonel Vavasour. (STEELE _and_ RALEIGH _eye_ SMITH _with interest_.) He knew Colonel Smith.

SMITH. (L. _of table_ R.) His dearest friend. I bring his last dying message. (CELIA _rises from sofa, glances at_ SMITH _and goes up to doorway_ R.) He used to lie on his sickbed, gazing across the thatched roofs of Berbera to the Arab dhows riding at their anchors in the sea.

(CELIA _comes down_ R. _of sofa_.)

STEELE. I am sure that must be very affecting, but it will be extremely bad for the cause if Miss Faraday stays at home to-night, and this is a time when it doesn't do for any of us to be selfish. You'll come, won't you, Miss Faraday?

FARADAY, (C.) Certainly not.

SMITH. (R.C.) It would really be almost indecent to press Miss Faraday to go. (SMITH _and_ FARADAY _turn up stage_.)

STEELE. (_Slightly piqued_) Oh, very well. Then as I can't do anything for anyone, I suppose I had better be getting along. (_Exits_ L.IE. _and leaves door open_.)

RALEIGH. How that fellow Steele does give himself away. Silly ass! (_Goes_ R. _to_ CELIA.) I must say, Miss Faraday, that I think you are absolutely right to stay away from the Admiral's. The way that old man dogs your footsteps is positively revolting, but--(_With insinuating smile, kneeling on stool below sofa. Fatuously_)--but you might come on to the Philharmonic Concert afterwards. Don't you think so? (_Laughs idiotically_.) Don't you think so?

CELIA. (_Shaking her head sadly_) Not to-night, Mr. Raleigh. Not to-night. (_Exits_ R.IE.)

RALEIGH. Oh, very well. It's about time for me to be getting along. (_Crosses quickly to door_ L.) I shall see you all at the Admiral's, (_Exits quickly, closing door_.)

FARADAY. God bless my soul! I thought he came to give some of us a lift.

MADGE _and_ EVELYN. Why, yes.

(AUNT IDA _enters quickly through morning room and comes down_ R.C., _looking about her_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Gayly_) Hope I am not last.

FARADAY. Well, you are.

(PHYLLIS _and_ TARVER _enter_, TARVER _in evening dress with his hat and overcoat and atlas_. PHYLLIS _with her wraps_. TARVER _goes to head of table_ R. _and studies his atlas_. PHYLLIS _sits on fender_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Looking about and fastening her gloves_) Well, Celia is not down yet.

MADGE. Celia isn't coming.

AUNT IDA. What!

(SMITH _comes down stage to_ L. _of_ AUNT IDA.)

FARADAY. (_Coming down_ L.C. _with_ SMITH) Ida, this is Colonel Vavasour. My sister-in-law, Mrs. Chisholm Faraday. (_To_ SMITH) Who has been, I may say, more than a mother to our poor Celia through all this, more than a mother.

SMITH. I am delighted to make your acquaintance. (_Shakes her warmly by the hand_.) Friends of Miss Faraday have a claim upon me which can never be obliterated from my mind.

AUNT IDA. (_Briskly_) I am sure it is very pleasant to know that. But why?

(SMITH C., AUNT IDA _to his right_.)

FARADAY. Colonel Vavasour has just returned from Somaliland.

AUNT IDA. (_In horror_) What!!

MADGE. From Somaliland.

AUNT IDA. (_Involuntarily_) But why did he do that?

(SMITH _looks at_ FARADAY.)

FARADAY. Eh?--I don't think you understand, Ida. Colonel Vavasour is here--I may say--on an errand of mercy. He brings us news of our poor--gallant--lost friend--Smith.

AUNT IDA. S-S-Smith--?

FARADAY. Colonel Smith.

MADGE. Celia's Colonel Smith.

TARVER. (_Coming_ C. _at back with atlas, beckoning to_ FARADAY, _who joins him, and together they look over the atlas_, FARADAY _explaining something to_ TARVER) Colonel Vavasour knew him quite well.

AUNT IDA. (_In awestruck voice_) You--knew--the--Co--Co--Colonel?

SMITH. My dearest friend. I bring to Miss Faraday a few trinkets he habitually wore and his last dying message.

AUNT IDA. (_Wildly. Stands rigidly, staring at_ SMITH) Trinkets!! A message!! (_During the following speech_, AUNT IDA _gradually becomes more and more hysterical, culminating in a series of wild shrieks of hysterical laughter and grotesque movements of her arms and body_.)

SMITH. A long message. He used to lie in his sickbed, gazing across the thatched roofs of Berbera to the Arab dhows, riding at their anchors in the sea, and----

(AUNT IDA, _by now, is shrieking wildly and waving her arms above_. MADGE _runs frightened across the_ L. _of_ AUNT IDA _and_ PHYLLIS _runs down from fender to_ R. _of_ AUNT IDA, _and together they help her into chair to_ L. _of table_ R. TARVER _and_ FARADAY _look up suddenly, startled_. SMITH _goes up_ L.C., _concealing laughter_. PHYLLIS _stands_ R. _of chair below sofa, trying to hold_ AUNT IDA'S _hand_. EVELYN _runs excitedly and aimlessly about, looking for smelling salts_. FARADAY _runs up and down extreme_ L., _waving his arms_. MADGE _above chair, fanning_ AUNT IDA. TARVER C., _fanning_ AUNT IDA _with atlas. He kneels and fans her more vigorously. They all talk excitedly to each other, such as, "What has happened to your Aunt Ida?" "God bless my soul, can't you do something for your aunt?" "She is having a fit," "Go for a doctor," "Fan her, fan her," "Get some water," etc., etc. During all this_, AUNT IDA _is still shrieking_.)

PHYLLIS. (_At a signal from_ AUNT IDA) The shock has been too much for her.

MADGE. She's so devoted to Celia.

(AUNT IDA _whoops_.)

FARADAY. Get some vinegar.

(AUNT IDA _whoops_.)

EVELYN. No, smelling salts.

(AUNT IDA _whoops_.)

TARVER. (_Rising_) Oh, hold it upside down!

FARADAY. Nonsense, that's for drowning.

TARVER. Here, I know a remedy.

(MADGE _takes_ TARVER'S _place at_ L. _of choir and_ TARVER _goes up above chair, gets spray from table, leans over_ AUNT IDA'S _shoulder and sprays her forehead_.)

SMITH. (_Comes down_ C.) Slap her hands hard. That always brings them to.

(PHYLLIS _and_ MADGE _slap_ AUNT IDA'S _hands vigorously_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Pushing them away_) It doesn't do anything of the kind.

(MADGE _goes_ L.C. _and helps_ EVELYN _on with evening wraps_.)

SMITH. There, what did I tell you? (_Goes up stage and to table_ L.)

(TARVER _goes_ R. _above sofa_. PHYLLIS _goes_ R. _between sofa and fender_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Rises weakly_) Oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh! This must be broken to Celia.

FARADAY. (_Going up and getting his coat and hat from piano stool_) Celia already knows.

PHYLLIS. (_Pouting_) She and Colonel Vavasour are going to stay home and dine together. (_Goes up to_ TARVER _and talks_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Gasping_) Dine together!! And discuss S-S-Smith!! (CELIA _enters in mourning--black shawl and dress--door_ R.I. _She closes door, comes a few steps on stage and stands with folded hands and downcast eyes_. AUNT IDA _is now thoroughly bewildered_.) Celia, you're in black! (_Waves her hand up and down weakly_.)

CELIA. Yes, dear. I made a mistake when I said I shouldn't allow this news to interfere. I was wrong. Colonel Vavasour has shown me how deeply he was grieved by my neglect of the trappings of distress.

(NOTE: _The bodice of the black dress_ CELIA _wears, which is completely hidden by the black shawl, should be of some bright color, to be disclosed in Act III_.)

AUNT IDA. (_With a long wail_) Will somebody pinch me, please? (_Sits_.)

TARVER. (_Coming to foot of sofa and kneeling_) Let me do it for you, won't you?

(MARTIN _enters through_ L.I _with army list on tray. Comes to_ FARADAY.)

AUNT IDA. Certainly not.

TARVER. (_Rising and going back to head of sofa_) So sorry.

MARTIN. The wagonette is at the door, sir.

(EVELYN _and_ MADGE _cross to door_ L., _bidding goodnight to_ COLONEL SMITH, _and exit_.)

FARADAY. Very well, what have you got there, Martin?

MARTIN. Another army list, sir.

SMITH. (_Above table_ L.C. _Seeing army list_) Oh, damn!

FARADAY. All right. Put it on the table. (MARTIN _puts army list on table, crosses_ R. _and exits through morning room, turning on lights in morning room_.) Now then, off we go. (_Counting_) One, two, three, four. (_To_ PHYLLIS _and_ TARVER) No hanging behind, you two. (TARVER _and_ PHYLLIS _cross quickly_ L. _to door_.) Got your atlas, Tarver?

TARVER. Yes, sir.

(PHYLLIS _and_ TARVER _exit, nodding good-night to_ COLONEL SMITH.)

FARADAY. Then off we go. (_Coming down to_ AUNT IDA'S _chair, helping her up and supporting her_. AUNT IDA, _who is now in a thoroughly demoralised condition, weakly and brokenly emits little gasps. The feathers in her hair have fallen over one eye. She also shows other traces of her recent fit_. FARADAY _lifts her up, puts his arm around her waist and leads her across the stage_, FARADAY _above her_. CELIA _follows her as far as chair_ R. _of table_ L., _where she remains_.) Come along, Ida. This has been a little too much for you. Nothing like fresh air for an attack like yours. You will be all right when you get out in the fresh air. (AUNT IDA _crosses with him quickly, but haltingly, still emitting little gasps. When she gets almost to the door, she looks back at_ CELIA'S _dress, and with a final burst, exits_. FARADAY _at door_) My daughter will appreciate these quiet, I may say, these holy hours--with you, Colonel Vavasour.

SMITH. (_Comes down_ L.C.) I appreciate them, sir.

(FARADAY _exits_ L.IE., _closing door after him_. MARTIN _enters through morning room_.)

MARTIN. Dinner is served. Miss. (_Exits through morning room_.)

(_Clock off_ L., _upper, chimes eight_.)

SMITH. Eight!

CELIA. And your train goes at ten.

SMITH. Yes. We shall have two long hours to talk of Smith. (_Offers_ CELIA _his arm_. CELIA _takes it and they go slowly up to morning room_.)

QUICK CURTAIN