ngs the
wedding-gown._) Oh! how sweet, how beautiful!

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

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

PHOEBE. That knock.

MISS SUSAN. So dashing.

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

MISS SUSAN (_startled_). You _think_?

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

MISS SUSAN. Because your face was wet?

PHOEBE. It does not seem a sufficient excuse now.

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

PHOEBE (_in distress_). I fear me it was most unladylike.

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

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

MISS SUSAN. Always so dashing.

(VALENTINE _laughs and the ladies exchange delighted smiles._)

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

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

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

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

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

VALENTINE. How you see through me, Miss Phoebe.

(_The sisters again exchange delighted smiles_. VALENTINE _is about to
take a seat._)

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

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

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

PHOEBE. A--little, I think.

VALENTINE. Well, but I have something to tell you to-day which I
really think is rather dashing. (MISS SUSAN _gathers her knitting,
looks at_ PHOEBE, _and is preparing to go._) You are not