S SUSAN. You who are so much older than Miss Phoebe.

PATTY. Yes, ma'am, I ha' the advantage of her by ten years.

MISS SUSAN. It would be idle to pretend that you are specially comely.

PATTY. That may be, but my face is my own, and the more I see it in
the glass the more it pleases me. I never look at it but I say to
myself, 'Who is to be the lucky man?'

MISS SUSAN. 'Tis wonderful.

PATTY. This will be a great year for females, ma'am. Think how many
of the men that marched away strutting to the wars have come back
limping. Who is to take off their wooden legs of an evening, Miss
Susan? You, ma'am, or me?

MISS SUSAN. Patty!

PATTY (_doggedly_). Or Miss Phoebe? (_With feeling._) The pretty
thing that she was, Miss Susan.

MISS SUSAN. Do you remember, Patty? I think there is no other person
who remembers unless it be the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta.

PATTY (_eagerly_). Give her a chance, ma'am, and take her to the
balls. There be three of them this week, and the last ball will be the
best, for 'tis to be at the barracks, and you will need a carriage to
take you there, and there will be the packing of you into it by gallant
squires and the unpacking of you out, and other devilries.

MISS SUSAN. Patty!

PATTY. If Miss Phoebe were to dress young again and put candles in her
eyes that used to be so bright, and coax back her curls--

(PHOEBE _returns, and a great change has come over her. She is young
and pretty again. She is wearing the wedding-gown of_ ACT I., _her
ringlets are glorious, her figure youthful, her face flushed and
animated_. PATTY _is the first to see her, and is astonished_. PHOEBE
_signs to her to go._)

PHOEBE (_when_ PATTY _has gone_). Susan. (MISS SUSAN _sees and is
speechless._) Susan, this is the picture of my old self that I keep
locked away in my room, and sometimes take out of its box to look at.
This is the girl who kisses herself in the glass and sings and dances
with glee until I put her away frightened lest you should hear her.

MISS SUSAN. How marvellous! Oh, Phoebe.

PHOEBE. Perhaps I should not do it, but it is so easy. I have but to
put on the old wedding-gown and tumble my curls out of the cap.
(_Passionately._) Sister, am I as changed as he says I am?

MISS SUSAN. You almost frighten me.

(_The band is heard._)

PHOEBE. The music is calling to us. Susan, I will celebrate Waterloo
in a little ball of my own. See, my curls