SCENE I.—_MRS. GRANBY’S sitting-room. MRS. G., C., with sober

countenance, holds in her hand an open letter, on which her eyes are fixed. Enter her daughter CLARA, R._

CLARA. Does your letter contain any sad news, ma?

MRS. GRANBY. Not exactly _sad_ news,—but _disagreeable_, to say the least.

C. (_interested_). What is it?

MRS. G. (_glancing at letter_). This is a letter from Aunt Patience Burton. She is coming to make us a visit.

C. That is _horrible_ news. I shouldn’t want Ernest to see her—she is so fussy and homely.

MRS. G. He will, no doubt, feel as we do, that money is of more consequence than a handsome face. Besides, we shan’t be troubled with her long.

C. How long do you suppose she will stop here?

MRS. G. A week or two, I suppose. That is the usual length of her visits.

C. (_with the air of a martyr_). Well, I suppose we must try to endure her presence for that length of time—hoping for our final reward.

MRS. G. (_in a brighter tone_). If she could only be persuaded into making her will in our favor, I shouldn’t consider the trouble of having her here anything.

C. How much is she supposed to be worth?

MRS. G. About thirty thousand dollars.

C. Just think how much more that amount would benefit us than it does her. I dare say she hoards it up like a miser.

MRS. G. (_smiling_). That will be all the better for us.

C. Yes, if we get it. But when does the letter say she is coming?

MRS. G. I did not notice particularly. Let me see. (_Looks over letter—reads_:) “You may expect me Friday, the twenty-fifth, wind and weather permitting.”

C. (_interrupting_). The twenty-fifth! Why, that’s to-day! (_Bell rings outside._)

MRS. G. And there is the bell. I shouldn’t be at all surprised if that were she. (_Both rise._)

(_Enter, L., a prim, elderly lady, with corkscrew curls, and wearing an old-fashioned bonnet._)

MRS. G. (_greeting her with a smile of welcome, and shaking hands warmly_). Why, Aunt Patience, how glad I am to see you! Clara and I were just speaking of you.

AUNT PRUDENCE (_diving into the recesses of an ample pocket_). Wait a minute, Elviry. (_Takes out an ear-trumpet, which she adjusts to her ear._) There, now we can talk.

MRS. G. (_in a loud tone_). I had no idea you were so deaf, aunt.

A. P. I’m getting old, you know, and can’t expect to keep my faculties like younger people. But where’s Clara?

MRS. G. This is Clara. (_Steps aside for her daughter to approach._) Didn’t you recognize her?

A. P. No, she’s grown so I didn’t know her. How d’ye do, dear?

C. (_shaking hands_). How do you do, aunt? I’m glad to see you here.

A. P. Thank ye, child. It’s pleasant to find that old folks aint always forgotten and wished out of the way.

MRS. G. (_in a loud voice_). Let me assist you in taking off your bonnet.

A. P. You needn’t speak so loud when I have my trumpet.

MRS. G. Then you can hear without using it?

A. P. Yes, but not without you speak pretty loud. (_Lays her trumpet down._)

MRS. G. (_taking aunt’s bonnet, and carrying it to table. Addressing daughter._) You see, she’s as deaf as can be. (_Old lady sits down._)

C. That’s lucky. We can relieve our minds without her hearing us. Is she going to stay long?

MRS. G. I don’t know. I will ask her. (_In a loud voice:_) I hope you are going to make us a long visit.

A. P. I shan’t be able to stop more than a month. But perhaps it won’t be convenient for you to have me with you so long.

MRS. G. (_in a loud tone to aunt_). We shall be delighted (_in a lower tone to her daughter_) when you go away. That’s true, isn’t it, Clara?

C. Yes, indeed. But (_dismally_) do you suppose we can live through the month?

MRS. G. We must try to, for the sake of the money. (_To AUNT P._) Have you been well, lately, aunt?

A. P. No, I’ve enjoyed dreadful poor health this winter. I’ve been most dead with roomatiz and I haven’t got over it yet.

MRS. G. It must have been hard to bear.

A. P. Yes, it made me feel as if I ought to make my will, and I think I shall make it as soon as I get home again.

MRS. G. Oh, you have many years yet to live, aunt.

A. P. I can see well enough that I am getting old, and cannot live long, anyway. I get tired out very easy. I think I shall have to ask you to show me to the room I am to occupy, and I will lie down awhile. I aint much used to travelling, and it tires me.

MRS. G. Shan’t I get you a cup of tea, aunt?

A. P. Oh, no. All I need is a little rest.

(_Exit, R._)

MRS. G. There, I think we have made a good impression. If she only makes a will in our favor, I shall consider the attentions we pay her a good investment.

C. But suppose she shouldn’t leave her money to us?

MRS. G. Oh, don’t let your imagination run in that direction. We must manage to get into her good graces, so that we may become her heirs.

C. Well, I will do all I can to bring about so desirable a result.

(_Exit MRS. G., R. Curtain falls._)