ave over-fatigued yourself.

PHOEBE. I remember.

(BLADES _enters with the cordial._)

VALENTINE. You will sip this cordial.

BLADES. By your leave, sir.

(_He hands it to_ PHOEBE _himself._)

VALENTINE. She is in restored looks already, Miss Susan.

PHOEBE. I am quite recovered. Perhaps if you were to leave me now
with my excellent aunt----

VALENTINE. Be off with you, apple cheeks.

BLADES. Sir, I will suffer no reference to my complexion; and, if I
mistake not, this charming lady was addressing you.

PHOEBE. If you please, both of you. (_They retire together, and no
sooner have they gone than_ MISS PHOEBE _leaps from the couch, her eyes
sparkling. She presses the cordial on_ MISS SUSAN.) Nay, drink it,
Susan. I left it for you on purpose. I have such awful information to
impart. Drink. (MISS SUSAN _drinks tremblingly and then the bolt is
fired._) Susan, Miss Henrietta and Miss Fanny are here!

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe!

PHOEBE. Suddenly my eyes lighted on them. At once I slipped to the
ground.

MISS SUSAN. You think they did not see you?

PHOEBE. I am sure of it. They talked for a moment to Ensign Blades,
and then turned and seemed to be going towards the shrubbery.

MISS SUSAN. He had heard that you were there with Captain Brown. He
must have told them.

PHOEBE. I was not. But oh, sister, I am sure they suspect, else why
should they be here? They never frequent balls.

MISS SUSAN. They have suspected for a week, ever since they saw you in
your veil, Phoebe, on the night of the first dance. How could they but
suspect, when they have visited us every day since then and we have
always pretended that Livvy was gone out.

PHOEBE. Should they see my face it will be idle to attempt to deceive
them.

MISS SUSAN. Idle indeed; Phoebe, the scandal! You--a schoolmistress!

PHOEBE. That is it, sister. A little happiness has gone to my head
like strong waters.

(_She is very restless and troubled._)

MISS SUSAN. My dear, stand still, and think.

PHOEBE. I dare not, I cannot. Oh, Susan, if they see me we need not
open school again.

MISS SUSAN. We shall starve.

PHOEBE (_passionately_). This horrid, forward, flirting, heartless,
hateful little toad of a Livvy.

MISS SUSAN. Brother James's daughter, as we call her!

PHOEBE. 'Tis all James's fault.

MISS SUSAN. Sister, when you know that James has no daughter!

PHOEBE. If he had really had one, think you I c