Chapter II: Act ONE (1)

_After a slight pause, a door out at the right is heard to close, and immediately Mr. Ritter comes along the hallway beyond the partition and into the room. He is a brisk, rather stocky type of man, in his early forties, wearing a brown suit and overcoat, a derby hat, and carrying a suit-case. He sets the suit-case down on the partition-seat at the right, and, with a glance around the room, at the unusual arrangement of the furniture, starts out into the hallway again, removing his gloves and overcoat. He glances along the hallway to the left and up the stairs as he goes. Jenny comes along the hallway from the left carrying a small, light chair. As she is about to come into the drawing-room proper from the hallway, she becomes conscious of Mr. Ritter out at the hall-rack at the right. She stops and peers in that direction. She is a pleasant little English person, plump and trim, dressed in the regulation parlor-maid’s black and white._

JENNY. Is that you, Mr. Ritter?

RITTER. That’s who it is, Jenny! How are you?

JENNY. [_Bringing the little chair forward and placing it above the little table at the left_] Pretty well, thanks, Mr. Ritter, how are _you_?

RITTER. [_Coming along the hallway from the right_] I’m whatever you are, Jenny. [_Jenny gives a faint little laugh and proceeds with her arrangements, and Ritter picks up several telegrams from the stand in the hallway, just to the left of the center entrance._]

JENNY. Ain’t you back a bit soon?

RITTER. [_Coming forward to the small table at the right, below the piano_] Yes, I thought I’d have to go down to Cincinnati for a week or two, but I didn’t.

JENNY. Mrs. Ritter ain’t expectin’ you, is she?

RITTER. [_Glancing thru the telegrams_] No, she isn’t, Jenny.

JENNY. I thought I didn’t remember hearin’ her sayin’ nothin’.

RITTER. Where is she?

JENNY. [_Starting for the hallway_] She’s upstairs, sir, I’ll call her.

RITTER. [_With a glance at the furniture_] What are you doing around here, Jenny, housecleaning?

JENNY. [_Turning and coming back_] No, sir, there’s a rehearsal here tonight. [_Ritter stops reading and looks at her quizzically for a second._]

RITTER. What kind of a rehearsal?

JENNY. Why, a rehearsal for a show that Mrs. Ritter’s takin’ part in tomorrow night. They done it at the Civic Club the week after you went away, and they liked it so well they’re doin’ it again tomorrow night.

RITTER. _Who_ liked it?

JENNY. Sir?

RITTER. I say, who liked it so well that they’re doing it again?

JENNY. Why, everybody seemed to like it, Mr. Ritter, from what the papers said.

RITTER. What kind of a show is it?

JENNY. Why, I think it’s a tragedy, from what I gather.

RITTER. Did you see it, Jenny?

JENNY. No, sir, _I_ didn’t get to see it, I’m sorry to say; but I heard everybody connected with it sayin’ it was a _great success_. [_Ritter resumes his telegrams, then looks at Jenny suddenly._]

RITTER. How did Mrs. Ritter get into it?

JENNY. Why, I think somebody died, Mr. Ritter, if I’m not mistaken.

RITTER. [_Shaking his head conclusively, and resuming his telegram_] I assumed it was an extremity of _some_ kind.

MRS. R. [_At the top of the stairs at the back_] Fred Ritter! don’t tell me that’s you down there! [_Jenny turns quickly and goes to the foot of the stairs._]

RITTER. No, I’m still out in Chicago!

MRS. R. Is it, Jenny?

JENNY. Yes, mam, I was just comin’ to tell you.

MRS. R. [_Starting down the stairs_] I _thought_ I heard his voice! [_Jenny laughs._] I’ve been standing up here for the last _five_ minutes saying to myself, “Who can that _be_ that has a voice so much like Fred’s!” [_Coming into the room from the hallway_] Why, Fred, darling, what are you doing here! [_He has moved up towards the center-door._]

RITTER. [_Laughing a little_] How is the old kid! [_Kisses her_]

MRS. R. I thought you wouldn’t be back till the first! [_Jenny passes along the hallway to the left._]

RITTER. Why, that Cincinnati thing’s been postponed till after Thanksgiving.

MRS. R. [_Turning away from him and stepping out into the hallway again_] Well, why didn’t you wire or something?

RITTER. I was afraid of giving you a shock.

MRS. R. Oh, Jenny!

RITTER. You’re such a frail little flower.

MRS. R. [_Turning back to him_] Now stop, Fred! I’ve really lost a lot since you went away.

RITTER. How do you know? [_Jenny comes along the hallway from the left._]

MRS. R. Why, my dear, I can tell by my clothes. [_She turns to Jenny._] Jenny, will you get me a glass of water, please.

JENNY. [_Starting out_] Yes, mam.

RITTER. You’re not going to faint, are you?

MRS. R. [_Turning back to him again with a flip of her hand at him_] No, I’m not.

RITTER. [_Slipping his arm around her waist and coming forward_] Any mail here for me?

MRS. R. Not a single thing, Fred; I sent everything right on to Chicago as soon as it came: there must be several letters there for you now.

RITTER. [_Disengaging himself and taking her hands and looking at her_] I’ll get them all right. How have you been treating yourself while I’ve been away?

MRS. R. All right; only I’m glad to see you back.

RITTER. Kiss me.

MRS. R. The house seemed awfully lonesome.

RITTER. Kiss me. [_She kisses him._]

MRS. R. [_Passing above him to the piano at the right_] Crazy thing. [_He moves over to the little table at the left, rummaging in his pocket for a cigar, and Mrs. Ritter commences to rummage in a sewing-basket on the piano. This basket is Mrs. Ritter at a glance, all green and yellow satin, fraught with meaningless bows and weird-looking knots. She undoubtedly made it herself, and it must have taken her months. But she’s a practical woman; at least she thinks she is; and the sewing-basket helps in a way to sustain the conviction. Poor Paula! As one looks at her and listens to her he appreciates the fortune of the circumstance that there is some sane and capable person between her and the world; and as he more closely observes the sewing-basket, he rejoices in the blessing of the sane and capable person’s ability to spare her the necessity of having to make her own clothes. Although, as a matter of fact, she would look lovely in anything; for Paula is pretty--charmingly so. And her hair is marvelous. So gold--and satiny. She is wearing a dress now of lime-green silk with a standing collar edged with black fur, and gold-colored slippers._] Did you have anything to eat, Fred?

RITTER. Yes, I ate on the train. What’s this Jenny was saying? Something about a show you’re in?

MRS. R. Oh,--[_Looking at him_] did she tell you?

RITTER. I wondered what had happened to the furniture when I came in.

MRS. R. [_Coming around and forward towards the little table below the piano_] Yes, there’s a rehearsal here tonight. We have it every Tuesday and Thursday. Of course, it’s just to run over the lines, because we’ve done it already at the Civic Club on the fourteenth. And, my dear, it was perfectly marvelous.

RITTER. What kind of a show is it?

MRS. R. [_Standing back of the table_] Oh, it’s just a one-act play,--in one act, you know. And it was really _quite_ wonderful. [_She gives an inane laugh._] I had no idea. [_She touches her hair and turns towards the back of the room again._]

RITTER. How did _you_ happen to get into it? [_Jenny comes along the hallway from the left carrying a glass of water on a small tray._]

MRS. R. [_Turning to him_] Well now, wait till I tell you--[_She sees Jenny._] Oh, thanks, Jenny. [_Jenny starts out again._] Jenny, will you go to the top of the stairs and see if I left the lights burning in my room.

JENNY. [_Turning and starting towards the foot of the stairs in the right hallway; and setting the tray on the little stand as she goes_] Yes, mam.

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming forward holding the glass of water_] I think I did. [_She sips._]

JENNY. [_As she crosses the center-door_] Do you want that suit-case taken up, Mr. Ritter? [_Mrs. Ritter turns round to the right and watches Jenny._]

RITTER. Yes, you can take it up if you will, Jenny, thanks. [_Jenny lifts the suit-case from the partition-seat and goes out and up the stairs._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to Ritter_] You know, I wrote you about poor Jimmy Sheppard--

RITTER. Yes, what was that, had he been sick?

MRS. RITTER. Why, not a day, my dear! that’s the reason it was all so dreadful. Of course, he’d always had more or less of a weak heart; but nothing to threaten anything of that kind. And just three days before the performance, mind you:--couldn’t happen any other time. And _poor_ Mrs. Sheppard playing one of the _leading_ parts. [_She turns to her left and goes up to the center-door, where she looks out toward the right hallway expectantly._]

RITTER. [_Casually depositing the band from his cigar on the tray at his left_] Did he _know_ she was to play one of the leading parts?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning at the center-door and looking at him_] Who,--Mr. Sheppard?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. RITTER. [_Coming forward again_] Why, of course he did--She’d just finished telling him when he fell over. [_Ritter appears to be unduly occupied with his cigar, and Mrs. Ritter takes advantage of the circumstance to refresh herself with another sip from the glass._] My dear, poor Clara Sheppard is a _wreck_--You want to write her a note, Fred, when you get time. And he never spoke--not a solitary word. But, she says--just as he was dying,--he gave her the funniest look. Oh, she says--if she lives to be a thousand, she’ll _never_ forget the way he looked at her. [_She goes up to the center-door and sets the glass down on the tray._]

RITTER. [_Still busy with his cigar_] Had he ever seen her act?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him, thoughtfully_] _I_ don’t know,--whether he ever had or not. [_Jenny comes down the stairs._] Oh, yes he had, too! for I saw him myself at the Century Drawing Rooms last Easter Monday night, and she was in that play there that night, you remember. [_She moves to the piano and starts looking for something in the sewing-basket; he moves to the mantelpiece, up at the left, apparently looking for a match._]

RITTER. No, I wasn’t there.

MRS. R. Oh, weren’t you! I thought you were.

RITTER. No. [_He feels in his pockets._]

MRS. R. There are matches there on that little table there, Fred. [_She indicates the table below the mantelpiece._]

RITTER. [_Discovering some in his pocket_] I have some here. [_He moves to the arm-chair at the left of table and sits down._]

MRS. R. [_As Jenny passes along the hallway towards the left_] Oh, Jenny!

JENNY. Yes, mam?

MRS. R. Jenny, will you ask Mrs. Brock if she’ll make some of that drink that she made the last time?

JENNY. I think she ’as made it already, Mrs. Ritter.

MRS. R. Well, will you see, Jenny, please?

JENNY. [_Starting away_] Yes, mam.

MRS. R. [_To Ritter_] The folks liked it so much the last time. [_She picks up her sewing-basket._]

JENNY. All right, Mrs. Ritter. [_She disappears at the left._]

MRS. R. [_Stepping out into the hallway_] Oh, and, Jenny!

JENNY. [_Out at the left_] Yes, mam?

MRS. R. Tell her to put a little of that _gin_ in it, the way she did before.

JENNY. All right, mam.

MRS. R. Tell her she’ll find some gin in the little buffet in the big dining-room.

RITTER. She probably knows where it is.

MRS. R. [_Coming forward carrying her sewing-basket_] Well, anyway, that’s how I happened to get into it. [_She sits on the chair at the left of the small table below the piano._] Mrs. Pampinelli called me up the first thing in the morning, and she said--

RITTER. Is she in it, too?

MRS. R. [_Looking up from the arrangement of a couple of strips of lace which she has taken from the sewing-basket_] Who? Mrs. Pampinelli?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. R. No, she doesn’t take any part; she’s just in charge of everything.

RITTER. That suits her better.

MRS. R. Kind of directress, I suppose you’d call her. [_He has some difficulty keeping his face straight._] Tells us where to go, you know, on the stage,--so we won’t be running into each other. [_Ritter laughs._] Really, Fred, you have no idea how easy it is to run into somebody on the stage. You’ve got to know where you’re going every time you move. [_He laughs louder._] Why, what are you laughing at?

RITTER. I was just thinking of a few of the things I’ve heard Mrs. Pampinelli called.

MRS. R. [_Looking over at him reproachfully_] Oh--now, that isn’t a bit nice of you, Fred Ritter. I know you don’t like her.

RITTER. I like her all right.

MRS. R. No, you do not, now, Fred,--so _don’t_ say you do.

RITTER. I think she’s marvelous.

MRS. R. Well, she’s tremendously clever at this stage business, I don’t care what you say. You just ought to hear her talk about it sometime. Now, the last rehearsal we had,--over at her house,--she spoke on “Technique in Acting as Distinguished from Method;” and you’ve no idea how interesting it was. [_Ritter glances over at her as he deposits some ashes from his cigar on the little table-tray._]

RITTER. You say you’ve given this show before?

MRS. R. Oh yes! We gave it on the fourteenth at the Civic Club. And, my dear, that audience just loved it. And you’d be surprised too, for it’s a terrifically serious thing. In fact, in a way, it’s too serious--for the general public--that’s the reason several of the people who saw it suggested that, if we give it again, we should give a dance right after it. [_She looks closely at her needle and Ritter looks discreetly at the end of his cigar._] But, as Mrs. Pampinelli says, it’s an absolute impossibility to give a dance at either the Civic Club or the Century Drawing Rooms, so that’s how we’re giving it this time down at Hutchy Kutchy. [_Ritter looks over at her with a quizzical squint._]

RITTER. Where?

MRS. R. [_Looking over at him_] Horticultural Hall--there at Broad and Spruce, you know.

RITTER. Yes, I know;--what did _you_ call it?

MRS. R. Hutchy Kutchy. [_She laughs inanely._] Mrs. Pampinelli always calls it that,--I suppose I’ve gotten into the habit too, from hearing her. [_She gives another little laugh, then finishes with an amused sigh._]

RITTER. What’s the show for, a charity of some kind?

MRS. RITTER. [_Turning to him suddenly, and with a shade of practicality_] It’s for the Seamen’s Institute. Kind of a refuge for them, you know, while they’re in port; so the sailors won’t be wandering around the streets getting into bad company. [_Ritter disposes of more ashes, with an unusual precision, and Mrs. Ritter resumes her sewing. Then, suddenly, she glances toward the casement-window at the right._] It was Mrs. Pampinelli’s idea, [_She gathers her things into the sewing-basket and gets up, swinging round to her left and talking as she goes._] so of course she _didn’t_ want anything to happen. [_She sets the sewing-basket down on the piano, and, with another glance thru the window at the right, crosses to the little table at the left where Ritter is sitting._] So she called me up the first thing in the morning, and she said, “Paula darling, _have_ you heard the news?” So, of course, I said “No;” because up to that time I _hadn’t_, and, naturally, I _wasn’t_ going to say that I had.

RITTER. Certainly _not_.

MRS. R. “Well,” she said, “_poor_ Jimmy Sheppard has _just_ passed on.” Well, luckily, I was sitting down at the time, or I _positively_ think I should have passed on myself.

RITTER. [_Raising his hand from the table as though distressed by the extremity of her remarks_] Don’t say such things.

MRS. R. [_Mistaking his attitude_] No, really, Fred, you’ve no idea the _feeling_ that came over me when she said that. “Well,” I said, “Betty, what on earth are we going to do!” Because the tickets were all sold, you know. “Well,” she said, “Paula,--the only thing _I_ see to do, is to have _you_ step right into Clara Sheppard’s role.” “Me!” I said. “Yes,” she said; “you are the only person in _my_ opinion who is qualified to play the part.” “But, my dear,” I said, “I’ve never stepped on a stage in my _life_!” “That is absolutely inconsequential,” she said, “it is entirely a matter of dramatic instinct. And,” she said, [_She simpers a bit here and moves around from the right of the little table where she has been standing to the back of her husband’s chair, at the left of the table._] “_you_ have _that_--to a far greater degree than you’ve _any_ idea of.” [_He makes a sound of dry amusement._] No, really, Fred, everyone was saying it was a positive tragedy that you couldn’t have been there to see me--I never forgot myself once. [_She rests her hand on his left shoulder, and he reaches up and takes her hand._]

RITTER. What are you going to do now, become an actress?

MRS. R. No, but it surprised me so, the way everybody enthused; because I didn’t think I’d done anything so extraordinary--I just walked onto the stage, and said what I’d been told to say, and walked off again. [_She emphasizes this last phrase by an indefinite gesture of nonchalance in the direction of the door at her left._] And yet everybody seemed to think it was wonderful. Why, Nelly Fell said she’d never seen even a _professional actress_ so absolutely unconscious. [_He makes a sound of amusement._] Really, Fred, you ought to have heard them. Why, they said if they didn’t know, they never in the _world_ would have believed that it was my first offense.

RITTER. You mustn’t believe everything these women tell you; they’ll tell you anything to get their names in the paper.

MRS. R. Well, it wasn’t only they that said it;--people that I didn’t even _know_ said it. Why, Mrs. Pampinelli had a letter from a woman away out at Glenside that happened to see the performance, and she said that, at times, my repose was _positively_ uncanny. And the papers simply raved; especially “The Evening Breeze.” I have it upstairs, I must show it to you. It said that it didn’t understand _how_ I had escaped the public eye so long. [_She glances at the cuckoo-clock over the door at the left, and, in doing so, notices a book that has been left lying on the chair below the door: she steps over and picks it up._] I was awfully sorry you couldn’t have been there, Fred. I was going to write you about it when Mrs. Pampinelli first spoke to me about going on, but there was so little time, you see. And then, I didn’t think you’d mind;--especially on account of its being for charity. [_He is very carefully putting ashes on the little tray. She stands holding the book, looking at him. And there is a slight pause._] You _don’t_ mind my going on, do you, Fred?

RITTER. [_Rather slowly_] No,--I don’t mind, if you’re able to get away with it.

MRS. R. [_Trailing across back of his chair_] I didn’t think you would.

RITTER. [_Raising his hand from the table quietly_] But a--[_She comes to a stop and regards him over her left shoulder._] I don’t want any of these women exploiting you for their own vanity. [_She doesn’t quite encompass his meaning, and stands looking at him for a second. Then she abstractedly lays the book down on the table beside him. There is a very definite ring at the front door-bell._] I guess that’s some of the people. [_She starts towards the hallway._]

RITTER. [_Preparing to rise_] Where do you do this thing, here?

MRS. R. [_Turning to him and indicating the general arrangement_] Yes--just the way we have it fixed.

RITTER. [_Rising briskly and crossing to the table below the piano at the right, while Mrs. R. continues to the center-door and stands looking toward the front door. Jenny appears in the left hallway._] I think I’ll beat it upstairs.

MRS. R. [_Turning to Jenny_] I guess that’s some of the people, Jenny. [_She comes forward towards Ritter again._]

JENNY. Yes, mam. [_She passes back of Mrs. Ritter and along out into the right hallway to answer the door._]

MRS. R. Won’t you wait and see the rehearsal, Fred? [_He is gathering up the telegrams from the table, where he left them earlier._]

RITTER. [_Turning and going up towards the center-door, thrusting the telegrams into his inside pocket_] No, I think I’d rather wait and see the show. [_He passes her, to her left._]

MRS. R. [_Turning and trailing up towards the center-door after him_] It’s really _very_ interesting.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Out at the front door_] You see how considerate I am of you, Jenny, letting myself in? [_Mr. and Mrs. Ritter stop in the center-door and look toward the front door._]

JENNY. [_At the front door_] Oh, that’s all right, Mrs. Pampinelli.

MRS. R. [_Turning quickly to Ritter at her left_] You can’t go up now, Fred, she’ll see you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI and RITTER, together.

MRS. P. Well, I daresay you’ll have to open this door quite often
enough tonight without my troubling you.

RITTER. [_Coming back into the room with a slight gesture of
annoyance_] I don’t want to have to listen to her gab. [_He goes over
to the mantelpiece at the left and takes up his position there, while
Mrs. Ritter, with a movement to him to be silent, drifts down beside
the piano at the right._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Coming into view from the right hallway_] Well, I suppose I’m still the shining example of punctuality. [_She sweeps thru the center-door, carrying a large black-bear muff, a fan of black ostrich-plumes, and a note-book and pencil._] How do you do, Mr. Ritter,--[_She goes towards Mrs. Ritter._]

RITTER. [_Nodding_] How do you do.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’m glad to see you.

MRS. RITTER. [_Moving towards Mrs. P._] Hello, Betty.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Hello, Paula child,--[_Kisses her_] how are you, dear? [_Mr. Spindler hurries in from the right hallway, carrying several books. Mrs. P. steps to the table below the piano._] Will you give those things to Mrs. Ritter, Mr. Spindler, she’ll set them down somewhere. [_She sets her own encumbrances down on the table, and Mrs. Ritter passes back of her to Spindler._]

SPINDLER. [_Standing in the middle of the room, toward the back_] Certainly, certainly.

MRS. RITTER. Good evening, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. Good evening, good evening. [_Jenny comes in from the right hallway, takes the tray and glass from the hall table, and goes out the left hallway._]

MRS. RITTER. I’ll just take these.

SPINDLER. [_Giving her the books and a manuscript_] If you please.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Crossing directly to Ritter_] Florence McCrickett told me you were back; she saw you getting into a taxicab at the station. [_Giving him her hand_] I’m glad to see you.

RITTER. I just got in.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And I suppose you’ve already heard about the great event?

RITTER. Yes, she’s just been telling me. [_They laugh together._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, my dear, you may count that day lost that you missed it. [_She half turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is engaged in conversation with Spindler._] Mayn’t he, Paula? [_But Paula hasn’t heard what she’s been saying, so she just looks at her and gives an inane little laugh. Mrs. Pampinelli continues to Ritter._] Although you’ll have an opportunity tomorrow night; unless you’re going to run away again before that.

RITTER. No, I’ll be here now till after Thanksgiving. [_Mrs. Ritter leaves Spindler and goes over to a small table at the extreme right, below the casement-window, where she sets the books and manuscript down._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning from Ritter and crossing back again to the table at the right below the piano_] Wonderful! Did you hear that, Paula?

MRS. R. What is it, dear?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Mr. Ritter says he will be here for the performance tomorrow night.

MRS. R. Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Unfastening her fur neckpiece_] So you will have an opportunity after all of revealing to him what gems of talent the unfathomed caves of matrimony bear. [_They both laugh._]

MRS. R. [_Picking up Mrs. Pampinelli’s muff from the table and taking the neckpiece_] I’ll just take these, Betty.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Settling her beads_] Anywhere at all, dear. [_Mrs. R. starts to the right._] Oh, and by the way, Paula--[_Mrs. Ritter stops and turns to her._]

MRS. R. Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating the books on the table below the window_] There’s a remarkable article in one of those books I brought, on a--gesture.

MRS. R. [_Looking at the books_] Yes?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. The little gray book I think it is, if I’m not mistaken. [_She turns to her left and acknowledges Mr. Spindler with a touch of state._] Mr. Spindler--[_He returns a smiling and very snappy little bow._] brought it to my attention,--[_She turns back again to Paula, who has gone up at the right of the piano and is putting the furs on the partition-seat, while Spindler, becoming suddenly conscious that Ritter is looking at him, stiffens abruptly, glances at Ritter, and turns back again to Mrs. Pampinelli._] and it really is remarkable. So many of my own ideas--things that I have been advocating for years. I brought it especially for _you_, Paula,--so you must read it when you have time. [_She picks up her lead-pencil from the little table and, tapping it against her right temple, thinks profoundly._] What is that wonderful line of Emerson’s that I’m so fond of--something about our unexpressed thoughts coming back to accuse us--[_Turning to Spindler_] You know all those things, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Pedantically_] Coming back to us “with an alienated majesty.”

MRS. PAMPINELLI. That is the one I mean. [_She turns back again to Paula, who has, by this time, come forward again at the right of the piano, while Mr. Spindler, again becoming conscious that Ritter is looking at him, gives him another glance, this time with a shade of resentment in it, and, coughing briefly, as an emphasis of his dignity, which Ritter’s general attitude somehow suggests is not being sufficiently esteemed, turns back to Mrs. Pampinelli._] Well, that is exactly what occurred to me when I read that article--My own thoughts returning to me from an alienated majesty. [_She finishes her version of the quotation to Spindler and Mr. Ritter._] Oh, by the way,--[_She gives a little mirthless laugh._] I’m afraid I’ve neglected to introduce Mr. Spindler [_Indicating Ritter with a very casual gesture of her left hand, and picking up her lead-pencil from the little table_] This is Mrs. Ritter’s husband, Mr. Spindler. [_Spindler strides towards Ritter and extends his hand with that vigor which usually characterizes the greetings of unimportant persons._]

SPINDLER. Glad!

RITTER. [_Tonelessly_] How are you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Addressing Ritter directly_] Mr. Spindler is a young man who has made quite an exhaustive study of the Little Theatre Movement throughout the country; [_Spindler moves back towards his former position, and Paula, over at the right, takes a piece of fudge from a box on the little table below the casement-window._] and is working very hard to bring about something of the same kind here. [_Ritter inclines his head, and Spindler listens to Mrs. Pampinelli, wreathed in smiles._] And is going to succeed, too, aren’t you, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. [_With a kind of pert assurance_] Never fell down on a big job yet. [_He gives a self-conscious little laugh and glances at Ritter, under whose coldly-appraising eye the laugh freezes instantly into a short, hollow cough. Then he turns away._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I’m sure he has all the qualifications.

SPINDLER. [_With a wooden smile, and saluting_] Thank you, thank you.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Hasn’t he, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. [_Nibbling at the fudge_] Yes indeed, Mr. Spindler’s quite indispensable. [_Spindler gives her a pert little nod, by way of acknowledgment._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] I think that’s what I shall have to call him hereafter,--[_Turning to Spindler_] the indispensable Mr. Spindler. [_They all laugh,--a trifle more than the brilliancy of the remark should reasonably occasion, and Mr. Spindler accounts it even worthy a salute._]

SPINDLER. Bouquets were falling [_Here the front door-bell gives two sharp little staccato rings._] thick and fast. [_He starts towards the center-door._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, it’s true--

SPINDLER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Ritter_] I’ll answer it. [_He hurries out into the right hallway._]

MRS. P. and MRS. R., speaking together.

MRS. P. I know I don’t know what on earth I should do without him.

MRS. R. [_Addressing Spindler as he hurries out the hallway_] All
right, if you will, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Calling back_] Sure!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. He is one of those rare persons who never forsakes one in the hour of quotation. [_She turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is chewing fudge at her right._] What are you eating, Paula?

MRS. RITTER. A bit of fudge. Would you like some, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Very definitely_] No, thank you, dear.

MRS. RITTER. [_Indicating the table below the casement-window_] There’s some here.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Raising her hand in a gesture of finality, and speaking with conviction_] I never eat immediately before using my voice. And you should not, either, Paula,--particularly candy. [_She moves across to the left to Mr. Ritter. She is an imposing woman, in her late fifties, with a wealth of false hair, perfectly done, and a martial bearing. She is one of those matrons who is frequently referred to in the suburban weeklies as a “leading spirit”; and this particular description has always so flattered Mrs. Pampinelli’s particular vanity, that she overlooks no opportunity of justifying it: an effort that has resulted in a certain grandeur of voice and manner; which, rather fortunately, becomes the distinction of her person. She is gowned in sapphire-blue velvet, close-fitting, with an independent, triangular train, from the waist, probably four yards long. Her necklace, comb, the buckles on her black-velvet slippers, and her rings, are all touched with sapphire._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Looking vaguely at the fudge-box_] There’s so much of it here. [_Jenny appears from the left hallway._]

MRS. P. and MRS. R., speaking together.

MRS. P. [_Coming to Ritter’s right_] Very tragic about poor Sheppard,
wasn’t it, Mr. Ritter?

MRS. R. [_Going up to the center-door, and speaking to Jenny as she
goes_] Mr. Spindler is answering the door, Jenny, you needn’t bother.

RITTER and JENNY, speaking together.

RITTER. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli_] Yes, it _was_--too bad.

JENNY. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Oh, all right, then. [_She withdraws, and
Mrs. Ritter stands looking out into the right hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I suppose Paula wrote you.

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Dear me--I don’t know when anything has so upset me. [_Ritter stands looking at the end of his cigar and Mrs. Pampinelli looks straight ahead._] I don’t believe I closed an eye the entire night,--wondering where on earth I should find someone to play his wife’s part. [_Ritter glances at her, as he places the cigar in his mouth, and Mrs. Pampinelli looks at him quickly._] Because, of course, you know that Mrs. Sheppard was to have played the part that Paula plays.

RITTER. Yes, so she told me. [_Mrs. Ritter, still nibbling at the fudge, wanders down and stands in the middle of the room._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. But we only had three days to get someone; and it didn’t seem possible to me that anyone could memorize that part in that length of time. [_Mrs. Ritter touches her hair and makes a little sound of amusement,--a kind of modest acknowledgment of the brilliancy of her achievement._] So I thought at first--of having Clara Sheppard go on anyway, and I should make an announcement; but, you see, Mr. Sheppard was buried on the fourteenth, and that was the night of the performance; and as I thought the matter over, it seemed to me that perhaps it was just a little too much to expect of her--[_Ritter gives her another glance._] Considering her experience as an actress, I mean.

RITTER. [_Taking the cigar from his mouth and speaking with a shade of deliberation_] Couldn’t she have kept his death a secret,--until after the performance?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, I thought of that, too; [_Ritter looks at her steadily._] but, you see, it was three days,--[_He nods, understandingly._] and he was so very well known. [_She moves back across the room towards the table below the piano, and Ritter stands looking after her. Simultaneously, there is a frantic giggle from the right hallway. Mrs. Ritter goes up to the center-door, looks in the direction of the laughter, and waves her handkerchief, while Mrs. Pampinelli, passing below the table, gathers up her note-book and pencil and continues to the table below the casement-window, where she secures the manuscript. Ritter steps forward from his position before the mantelpiece, and disposes of some ashes on the little table-tray._]

MRS. FELL. [_Out in the right hallway_] Paula, that’s a very dangerous young man you have on that door tonight.

MRS. RITTER. [_Calling to her_] I think it’s very kind of Mr. Spindler. [_Mrs. Pampinelli comes around in front of the big arm-chair below the casement-window._]

MRS. FELL. [_Coming into view, with considerable flourish_] Kind! My dear, I haven’t heard anything like it since I was twenty! [_She gives a little wave of her gorgeous, single white ostrich-plume fan at Mrs. Pampinelli._] Hello, Betty! [_Then to Mrs. Ritter_] How are you, darling?

MRS. RITTER. Hello, Nelly. [_Nelly kisses her._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Enthroning herself in the arm-chair at the right_] Is it _really_ possible!

MRS. FELL. [_Turning from Mrs. Ritter and hurrying through the center-door_] You’re a sweet child! [_Extending the fan towards Mrs. Pampinelli, and coming quickly forward to the table at the right below the piano_] Yes, and I should have been here every night at this hour if it weren’t for that dreadful officer up at the parkway! [_She sets her fan and black-velvet bag on the table. Spindler comes in from the right hallway and engages in conversation with Mrs. Ritter in the centre-door._] He seems to take a fiendish delight in selecting _my_ car, of all the _millions_ that pass there at this hour, to do _this_! [_She extends her right arm and hand, after the fashion of traffic-officers._] So I told him yesterday afternoon, I said, “Look here, young man!” [_She points her forefinger as though reproving the officer._] “You needn’t expect any Christmas-present from _me_ next Christmas, for you just--won’t--get it. Not till you change your tactics.” So he says, after this, he’s just going to let me go ahead and run into a trolley-car;--see how I like that. [_Mrs. Pampinelli, making marginal notes in the manuscript, laughs faintly._] “Well,” I said, “it’d be a change, anyway,--from being stopped all the time.” [_She abstractedly picks up her fan again._] I don’t think he likes my chauffeur. And I don’t blame him; I don’t like him myself. He drives too slow--[_She starts for the center-door._] He’s like an old woman. [_She sees Ritter, peering at her, and starts abruptly._] Well, for Mercy’s sake, Frederick Ritter, you don’t mean to tell me that’s you!

RITTER. I was here a minute ago.

MRS. FELL. [_Laughing flightily_] Well, I declare! I don’t know what’s happening to my eyes! [_Turning to Mrs. Pampinelli_] I saw him standing there, [_Turning back again and starting towards Ritter, with her hand extended_] but I thought it was one of the other gentlemen! How are you, dear boy? [_He takes her hand and stoops over as though to kiss her. She turns her head away quickly._] Stop it! Frederick Ritter! [_Mrs. Pampinelli glances over, then resumes her notes. Mrs. Fell half-turns to Mrs. Ritter, who is still talking to Mr. Spindler up at the center-door._] Paula!--do you see what this bad boy of yours is doing? [_Paula just looks and laughs meaninglessly, and resumes her conversation with Spindler._] What brought you back so soon?

RITTER. [_Assuming the attitude and tone of a lover_] I got thinking of you.

MRS. FELL. [_Touching her hair_] I thought you were out in Seattle or South Carolina or one of those funny places.

RITTER. [_Leaning a bit closer and speaking more softly_] I couldn’t keep away from you any longer. [_Nelly darts a swift glance at him._]

MRS. FELL. [_Starting towards the right_] Don’t play with fire, Frederick--[_He laughs hard. She pauses in the middle of the room and turns and looks at him._] You know what they say about widows, and I’ve been all kinds. [_She continues over towards Mrs. Pampinelli._] Oh, Professor Pampinelli! [_Turning and addressing Ritter directly_] I call her Professor, she knows so much. [_Turning back to Mrs. Pampinelli_] Mrs. P.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking up suddenly_] I beg your pardon, Nelly dear--I didn’t know you were speaking to me.

MRS. FELL. I want to know if you can take me home in your car tonight?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Why, certainly, dear.

MRS. FELL. My chauffeur has been deviling me for the past two days about some boxing-bee,--or wrestling-match or something that he wants to see; and I told him he could go if there were someone here to take me home.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I can take you, of course.

MRS. FELL. All right, then, I can chase him; [_She turns to the left._] I won’t hear any more about that. Oh, Mr. Spindler!

SPINDLER. Yes, mam? [_Excuses himself to Mrs. Ritter, who steps into the left hallway and beckons with her finger for Jenny._]

MRS. FELL. Would you mind doing a favor for a very old lady?

SPINDLER. [_Who has hurried forward and is standing in the middle of the room, at attention._] You know what I told you out at the door? [_Nelly gives a shriek, and giggles._]

MRS. FELL. [_Looking coyly over Spindler’s shoulder at Ritter_] Oh, you hear that, Frederick Ritter? You have a rival on the premises. Mr. Spindler told me out at the door tonight,--that _my_ will was _his_ pleasure.

RITTER. [_Looking at the tip of his cigar_] San Juan is never dead while Mr. Spindler lives. [_There is a general laugh._]

SPINDLER. [_Turning to Ritter_] Say, that’s pretty good!

MRS. FELL. Yes, I was afraid he was something of a gay deceiver.

SPINDLER. [_Speaking directly to Mrs. Fell_] Only one way to find out. [_Mrs. Fell laughs deprecatingly and sweeps the tip of her fan across his nose._]

MRS. FELL. Naughty boy. [_She giggles a little more, then becomes practical._] Well then, I’ll tell you what you may do for me, Mr. Spindler, if you don’t mind. [_Jenny appears in the left hallway and Mrs. Ritter gives her an order of some sort, which appears to require a bit of explanation._] Go out to my chauffeur, [_She turns him round by the shoulder and they move up towards the center-door._] you’ll probably find him asleep in the car, and tell him I said it’s all right,--he can go along--that Mrs. Pampinelli will take me home in _her_ car.

SPINDLER. [_Hurrying out the right hallway_] Righto! [_Jenny withdraws._]

MRS. FELL. [_Standing in the center-door and calling after him_] Like a good boy. [_She turns, to find Mrs. Ritter at her left in the center-door. She takes her arm and they come forward._] Come in here, Paula Ritter, and explain to me _why_ [_They stop in the middle of the room, just above the line on which Ritter is standing._] you didn’t tell me my--lover [_She peers around in front of Paula’s shoulder at Ritter._] was coming back today?

MRS. RITTER. [_Laughing faintly_] My dear, I didn’t know it myself until twenty minutes ago.

MRS. FELL. [_Becoming instantly rigid, and piercing Mrs. Ritter with a look_] You don’t mean to tell me he returned unexpectedly?

MRS. RITTER. He never even sent a wire.

MRS. FELL. [_Moving over to the right, to the little table below the piano_] I’m surprised at you, Frederick. I consider that the supreme indiscretion in a husband--[_She lays her fan down on the table._] to return unexpectedly. Isn’t it, Paula? [_She commences to unfasten her cloak._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Moving over to help her_] I never got such a surprise in my life.

MRS. FELL. It has probably wrecked more perfectly good homes than any other one thing in the calendar. [_She slips her cloak off her shoulders, and Mrs. Ritter, who has passed back of her, takes it. It is a flowing affair in black and silver, with voluminous kimona sleeves edged with black fur, and a deep circular collar of silver-cloth and fur._]

MRS. RITTER. I love your cape, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Settling her ornaments_] Do you really?

MRS. RITTER. [_Examining it_] Beautiful.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Reaching for it_] Let me see it, Paula.

MRS. RITTER. [_Handing it to her_] Where’s your seal, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. I thought I wouldn’t take it out this winter; I got so tired looking at it last year. I want to have that collar and cuffs taken off, anyway, before I wear it again;--there’s too much skunk there.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. This is perfectly gorgeous, dear. [_To Mrs. Ritter_] Isn’t it?

MRS. RITTER. [_Picking up Nelly’s fan from the table_] Lovely. And isn’t this sweet? [_Mrs. Pampinelli takes the fan from Mrs. Ritter and returns the wrap._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Charming.

MRS. FELL. I’m so glad you like it;--I was afraid at first perhaps it might make me look a little too much like a bride.

RITTER. [_With mock derision_] Ha! [_Nelly snaps her head toward him and pins him with a narrow glare._]

MRS. FELL. Don’t be peevish, Frederick--

MRS. RITTER. [_To Mrs. Pampinelli, as she takes the fan from her and replaces it on the table_] Isn’t he terrible!

MRS. FELL. It isn’t my fault that your wife is a great actress. [_She gives a comic nod and wink at Mrs. Ritter. Ritter laughs._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Starting towards the door up above the casement-window, at the right, with Mrs. Fell’s cape_] Now, Fred Ritter, you just stop that!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Never mind him, Paula--[_Paula goes out with the cape._] He’ll probably change his tune after tomorrow night. [_Mrs. Fell picks up her fan and commences to fan herself._]

RITTER. [_Standing over above the table at the left, smoking_] I’m thinking of what happened to poor Jimmy Sheppard. [_Jenny comes in at the left hallway, carrying a small punch-bowl filled with claret, which she sets down carefully on the little stand in the hallway. Mrs. Ritter re-enters from the door on the right and crosses over to Jenny, whom she assists._]

MRS. FELL. [_Strolling across towards Ritter, fanning herself_] Oh, I suppose it must be very difficult for the marvelous male, to suddenly find himself obliged to bask in the reflected glory of a mere wife. [_Mrs. Pampinelli laughs, over her notes._] For I’ve never known one yet who was able to do it gracefully. [_She flips the tip of the fan at Ritter’s nose. Mrs. Ritter gives Jenny a direction of some kind and Jenny goes out again at the left hallway._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_As Mrs. Fell saunters back again across the room_] Well, perhaps Mr. Ritter will show himself consistently _masculine_ in this instance, and do the exceptional thing. [_Mrs. Ritter follows Jenny out._]

RITTER. I suppose that’s what you’d call _veiled_ sarcasm, isn’t it? [_Mrs. Pampinelli laughs and rises._]

MRS. FELL. [_Standing in the middle of the room_] I shouldn’t say it was veiled at _all_. [_Moving towards the table below the piano_] I don’t think it’s even _draped_.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Laughing still, and coming to the little table_] Here’s the manuscript, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. [_Stepping closer to the table_] Yes, dear.

RITTER. What are you going to do now, keep _on_ giving this show?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, not this particular one, Mr. Ritter, no; but we are going to continue giving shows.

RITTER. What’s the idea?

MRS. FELL. They’re to be for different charities.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And then they will afford the boys and girls an opportunity of developing themselves as artists.

RITTER. What are they going to do, all go on the stage?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, hardly all of them will go;--but those that we feel have sufficient talent we will encourage to go on, by all means.

RITTER. Do you think Mrs. Ritter has sufficient talent?

MRS. FELL. She’s wonderful, Fred, really.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Yes, I should say that Paula had a very remarkable talent.

RITTER. Well, what will you do about _her_?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. How do you mean, Mr. Ritter, what will we _do_ about her?

RITTER. Why, I mean,--you’d hardly encourage _her_ to go on the stage, would you?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. And why not?

RITTER. Why, what about her home? [_Nelly Fell touches her hair and gives Mrs. Pampinelli a look of amused impatience._] She couldn’t very well walk away and leave that, could she?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, personally, Mr. Ritter, I have always felt that, where it is a question of talent, one should not allow himself to be deterred by purely personal considerations.

MRS. FELL. She’s really awfully good, Fred! You wait till you see--You’ll want her to go yourself.

RITTER. [_Stepping quietly to the table at the left and disposing of some cigar-ashes_] She’ll have to be pretty good.

MRS. FELL. Won’t he, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. Well, as far as that is concerned, I think that the question of whether to be or or not to be an actress, is one that every woman must, at some time or other in her life, decide for herself. [_Spindler hurries in from the right hallway and down to Mrs. Fell’s left, where he stands at attention, saluting, of course, as usual. Mr. Spindler is full of salutes. He was in the army;--drafted ten weeks before the armistice; and subjected throughout the long term of his service to the dangers and exposure of a clerkship in the Personnel at Upton. And he’s never gotten over it; being of that immature type of mind upon which the letter of the Military makes a profound impression. He’s a peppy person, thin and stilted,--in dinner clothes,--with sleek hair and goggle glasses: one of that distressing student-order that is inevitably to be found in the retinue of some Mrs. Pampinelli,--her social status and constant championship of so-called artistic movements affording him a legitimate indulgence of his particular weaknesses. So he becomes a kind of lead-pencil-bearer extraordinary to her ladyship; and her ladyship tolerates him,--for a variety of reasons; not the least of which is his unfailing attitude of acquiescence in all her opinions. And she has so many opinions,--and on so many different subjects, that this feature of Mr. Spindler’s disposition is far from inconsiderable. Then, he has a most highly developed faculty for small correctnesses,--an especially valuable asset, in view of the enormous amount of detail work incidental to Mrs. Pampinelli’s vast activities. He reminds her of things, or, “brings them to her attention,” as she puts it. For Mr. Spindler is one of those--fortunately few--people who remembers things--word for word--even the things he’s read--And he appears to have read most everything. And he quotes incessantly. As Mrs. Pampinelli has already observed of him, “he is one of those rare persons who never forsakes one in the hour of quotation.”_] Look here, Nelly.

MRS. FELL. Yes, dear. [_Mrs. Ritter comes in from the left hallway carrying several punch-glasses, which she puts down on the hallway table._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating a certain line in the manuscript with her lead-pencil_] There are a couple of little changes here on page twelve--[_Mrs. Fell opens her lorgnon and looks at the manuscript._] I have them marked.

MRS. FELL. [_Becoming conscious of Spindler at her left_] Pardon me, Betty. [_Turning to Spindler_] Did you tell him, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. Yes, mam; he’s gone on his way rejoicing.

MRS. FELL. You’re a sweet child.

SPINDLER. [_Snapping his salute_] Thank you. [_He does an about-face and goes up to Mrs. Ritter,--Ritter watching him with an expression susceptible of infinite interpretation._]

MRS. FELL. The only man I’ve met in a long time that has made me wish I were--ten years younger.

RITTER. Ha!

MRS. FELL. [_Pertly_] Outside of you, of course.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_With a touch of wearied impatience_] Look here, dear.

MRS. FELL. [_Stepping quickly to the table again and re-adjusting her lorgnon_] Yes, I beg your pardon.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You see, in this line here,--the author has employed a defective verb in the perfect tense. [_Mrs. Fell looks suddenly at her and then right back to the manuscript again. Ritter is watching them closely._] Would you come here for a moment, Mr. Spindler?

SPINDLER. Certainly, certainly. [_Excuses himself to Mrs. Ritter, with whom he has been chatting, and comes down briskly to Mrs. Fell’s left._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. If you please.

MRS. FELL. [_Appearing to have some difficulty locating the defective verb_] Where is that, now, that you were saying, Betty?

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Indicating with the point of the pencil_] Right there, dear. [_Nelly just looks at the spot, through her lorgnon._] This is the point I was speaking to you about last night, Mr. Spindler.

SPINDLER. [_Securing his goggles_] Oh, yes, yes! [_Ritter draws Mrs. Ritter’s attention to the group down at the table. She reproves him with a steady stare. He smiles and shakes his head hopelessly._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. You see, this author has employed a defective here, in the perfect tense.

SPINDLER. [_Looking closely_] Ah, yes, I see.

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Looking at him directly_] So I have changed it. [_He straightens up and looks at her, and Mrs. Fell looks from one to the other._]

SPINDLER. A very good change. [_He nods and crosses over to the left, passing below the table at the left. Ritter watches him until he takes up his position just below the mantelpiece, rather ill at ease under Ritter’s gaze._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. I think so. So, if you’ll just watch that Nelly. [_She picks up the manuscript._]

MRS. FELL. All right, I’ll watch it. [_She reaches for her bag and takes out a lip-stick. Jenny appears from the left hallway with a tray of cakes, which Mrs. Ritter assists her in making room for on the hall table._]

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Starting for the center-door_] I must show it to Paula, it’s her line. [_The door-bell rings._] Paula child. [_Jenny passes back of Mrs. Ritter and goes out into the right hallway to answer the door-bell._]

MRS. RITTER. [_Eating a cake_] Yes, dear? [_Mrs. Pampinelli calls her attention to the change in the manuscript. Mrs. Fell is making up her lips down at the table below the piano. Ritter is watching her, and Spindler is watching Ritter, and trying to assume his general deportment._]

RITTER. Are _you_ in the show, Nelly?

MRS. FELL. [_Without turning, and applying the lip-stick, with the aid of the little mirror in her hand-bag_] Who, me?

RITTER. Yes.

MRS. FELL. [_Half-turning, and giving him a melting look_] Yes;--I play a chicken. [_She returns to her mirror._]

RITTER. [_Casually_] In the last act, I suppose. [_Nelly snaps her head around and pierces him with one of her looks._]

MRS. FELL. No, and not in the last stages, either. [_She resumes her make-up. Nelly is forever making up. But, she does know how to do it. Of course, she should, considering the years of her experience in the art. For Nelly Fell’s age amounts to an achievement; one of those attainments so absolutely undisputed that it is perfectly permissible to refer to it in any gathering. She says she’ll “soon be sixty”; but the short and simple annals of society record flutterings of the lady as far back as the first term of President Grant. And she’s still fluttering--a perennial ingenue, full of brittle moves and staccato vocalisms. She looks like a little French marquise, so chic, and twittery--and rich. For, of course, Nelly is wealthy--enormously so; it would be utterly impossible to have her hair and not have money; the feature is financial in itself; so silver-white, with a lovely bandau of small, pale-pink leaves, tipped with diamond dewdrops; all heightened tremendously by the creation in black velvet she is wearing. This gown is heavily trimmed with silver, and quite sleeveless, with two panels of the goods fastened at the waist on either side and trailing at least a yard. She has a preference for diamonds and pearls, obviously, for her ear-rings, dog-collar, bracelets and rings are all of those gems, and her long, triple-string necklace is of pearls. Altogether, Nelly is a very gorgeous little old lady--from the topmost ringlet of her aristocratic hair, to the pearl buckles on her tiny black-velvet slippers._]

SPINDLER. Mrs. Fell is the official promptress.

MRS. FELL. [_Turning her head and looking at Ritter_] I _prompt_ everybody. [_She replaces her lip-stick in the hand-bag._]

RITTER. Yes?

MRS. FELL. [_Putting the hand-bag down again on the table_] As well as lending my moral support.

RITTER. Yes? [_Spindler laughs._]

MRS. FELL. [_To Ritter_] You bold thing!

HOSSEFROSSE. [_Coming into view from the right hallway_] Good evening, everybody!

MRS. PAMPINELLI. [_Turning to him, from Mrs. Ritter, with whom she has been discussing the change in the manuscript_] Oh, good evening, Mr. Hossefrosse. [_They shake hands._]