uld kill!

_Miss R._ (to Professor Grindem). Her voice is not deep enough. It lacks
impressiveness.

_Grindem_ Yes, it lacks power--power, I should say.

_Maude_ (near tears). I can't get a new voice for this old essay!

_Miss H._ Yes, you ought to; you ought to be made over if you're going
to graduate!

_Mrs. De S._ Do go on; I am very fond of the next part.

_Maude_ (continues). "We stand upon the brink--"

_Miss R._ More rapidly there, "We stand upon the brink!"

_Maude_ (in exact imitation). "We stand upon the brink."

_Jack_ (ditto). That is, if we don't fall off--

_Maude_ Make Jack be still or I--I--can't!

_Jack_ Beg your pardon, but really, 'a brink,' you know.

_Maude_ "We stand upon the brink--who can guess what say the dashing
waters beneath? Who can interpret the silence of the eternal stars? We
rest in the walley--valley, who can understand the whispering of the
leaves? Who can read the secrets of the ocean blue? O, deep are the
inner meanings,--deep, deep are the mysteries of nature, infinite are
the suggestions of life!"

_Grindem_ Too, rapidly, Miss Maude,--too rapidly. Those are grand
sentiments,--give 'em time--give 'em time.

_Miss R._ There is not enough emotion in the climax: "Deep, deep are the
mysteries of nature!" Read it (in a cellerage tone). "Deep, deep are
the mysteries of nature!"

_Maude_ (using the "vox humana stop"). "Deep, deep are the mysteries of
nature!"

_Mrs. De S._ (soothingly). You are not doing so well, Maudie, today.

_Miss H._ No, I think you get worse.

_Maude_ Nobody c-could! You all find fault. (weeps). You couldn't do any
better--none of you--so there now!

_Miss H._ Never mind! It doesn't matter. Don't graduate.

_Maude_ (still weeping). It does matter! It d-does! I don't want to
disgrace the family.

_Miss H._ Ought to have commenced sooner, then, if you didn't!

_Voice from without._ Who's going to disgrace the family? I'd like to
see 'em try it.

(As Mr. De Smythe appears, Professor Grindem and Jack go out, in deep
converse.)

_Maude_ I am!

_Mr. De S._ Oh, no, you're not,--not by the R.I.P. Railroad!
(cheerfully). You won't be permitted to, Miss! Doesn't the dress fit?

_Maude_ (with intense scorn). The dress! Oh, Papa, my piece!

_Mr. De S._ O, you're piece! Say it to me! I haven't heard it today.

_Maude_ You're making fun of me!

_Miss H._ The child is worn out.

_Maude_ I am not worn out! I am not a baby! (collapses). I wish