SCENE II.—_The same. AUNT P., R., knitting. Clara, C., sitting

idly, with book in her hand._

A. P. Didn’t you hear the bell just now, Clara?

C. Yes, I am expecting a friend here to-night. Ah (_rising as ERNEST MONTGOMERY enters, L._), good-evening, Ernest.

ERNEST MONTGOMERY. Good-evening. You were expecting me, I suppose.

C. Of course I was. I always remember appointments. But I suppose I must introduce you to my aunt. (_In a loud tone_:) Aunt Patience, this is Mr. Montgomery.

A. P. (_extending her hand to the young man_). I am very glad to see him.

C. (_to E. M._). We shan’t need to take any further notice of her. She’s deaf as an adder, and can’t hear a word without her trumpet unless we scream at her. I believe you never saw her before.

E. M. No.

C. She isn’t very handsome, is she?

E. M. Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear you?

C. Oh no, she’s too deaf.

E. M. But deaf people generally hear things that are not intended for their ears.

C. Well, I’ll run the risk. When we speak to her she seldom hears the first time.

A. P. What was that you said?

C. (_in a loud tone_). Only that it was so long since you had been here that we should try to make you have a pleasant time.

A. P. (_in a satisfied tone_). Oh, was that it? Thank you, child.

E. M. (_with admiration_). You got out of that well.

C. Trust me for that. When one has a rich aunt, it is the best to keep on the right side of her.

A. P. Did you speak to me, Clara?

C. No; I was telling Mr. Montgomery how fond I was of cider.

A. P. I used to like cider when I was a girl; but that was the genuine article, and we used to go to the mill where they made it, and take it through a straw.

E. M. (_interested_). So your aunt is rich?

C. Yes; she is said to be worth thirty thousand dollars.

E. M. That’s quite a fortune.

A. P. (_as if talking to herself_). Yes; deafness is quite a misfortune; but one doesn’t mind it so much when they’re stopping among their own relations.

C. (_smiling_). Yes, it is quite a fortune, and of course we put up with her oddities for the sake of the money, which will, most of it, come to us.

E. M. She may outlive you.

C. That’s what I’m afraid of. It would be just our luck to have her live to be a hundred.

E. M. How old is she now?

C. About sixty-five.

E. M. Then you would only have to wait thirty-five years for it.

C. We might as well never have her money as to wait so long as that for it.

E. M. It would be rather a long while, that’s a fact. By that time you would look as your aunt does now. Do you know, I think you resemble her very much?

C. (_tapping him playfully with her fan_). Take that for your impertinence, sir. I must be a charming damsel, if that were the case.

E. M. So I thought; which was why I made the remark.

C. (_flushing_). I don’t esteem it any compliment.

A. P. What was that you said, Clara?

C. I was saying to Mr. Montgomery that people seldom say what they mean.

A. P. (_nodding_). That’s true—that’s true enough. (_After a pause—holding up knitting._) Well, there, I’ve got that stocking pretty well along, and haven’t been knitting a great while, either. Mr. Montgomery, may I trouble you to tell me what time it is?

E. M. It is no trouble, madam, I assure you. (_Looks at watch._) It is about (_hesitates_) five minutes past ten.

A. P. Five minutes past ten! I had no idea ’twas so late. (_Gathers up her knitting._) That’s long past the time I usually go to bed. Good-night, Mr. Montgomery; good-night, Clara.

C. Good-night, aunt.

E. M. Good-evening, madam.

(_Exit AUNT PATIENCE, R._)

C. What made you tell her it was so late? It isn’t more than nine o’clock.

E. M. (_looking at watch_). It is just half-past eight. But although I enjoyed her society exceedingly, I was willing to deny myself that pleasure for the sake of having a little private conversation with you on a very important matter. (_CLARA casts down her eyes. MR. MONTGOMERY draws his chair near hers, and takes her hand._)

(_Curtain falls._)