f anything's
going to happen? He's the eldest.

SYLVIA. He wouldn't be any help. He cares for nothing but the inside of
motors and the outside of Maisie Stuart; he's not observant enough to
know her inside.

EVANGELINE. What a perfectly horrible thing to say!

SYLVIA. Well, it's absolutely true; he thinks she's everything that's
good and noble, when all the time she's painfully ordinary and a bit of
a cat; what fools men are.

JOYCE (_blase_). One can't help falling in love.

(_Enter_ MRS. DERMOTT _downstairs followed by_ BOBBIE; _she is a pretty
little woman with rather a plaintive manner._)

MRS. DERMOTT (_as she descends_). Bobbie says you all want to talk to
me! What's the matter, darlings? (_Comes_ C.)

SYLVIA. That's what we want to know, mum; come on now, out with it.
You've been looking worried for ever so long.

(BOBBIE _stays at foot of stairs._)

MRS. DERMOTT. I don't know what you mean, Sylvia dear I----

SYLVIA. Now listen to me, mother; you've got something on your mind,
that's obvious to any one; you're not a bit good at hiding your
feelings. Surely we're all old enough to share the worry, whatever it
is.

MRS. DERMOTT. (_kissing her_). Silly old darlings--it's true I have been
a little worried--you see, we're ruined.

SYLVIA. }
EVANGELINE. } Mother!
BOBBIE. }
JOYCE. }

(_The girls rise._)

MRS. DERMOTT (_shaking her head sadly_). Yes, we're ruined; we haven't a
penny. (_Moves to chair below table._)

SYLVIA. Why didn't you tell us before?

MRS. DERMOTT (_sitting_). I only knew it myself this morning, I had a
letter from Tibbets; he's been through all the papers and things.

EVANGELINE. Father's papers?

MRS. DERMOTT. I suppose so, dear. There wouldn't be any others, would
there?

BOBBIE (_coming down_). But mother, what did he say, how did he put it?

MRS. DERMOTT. I really forget--but I know it worried me dreadfully.

(JOYCE _sits on form._)

EVANGELINE. And we literally haven't a penny?

MRS. DERMOTT. Well, only fifteen hundred a year; it's almost as bad.

(EVANGELINE _sits in armchair._)

JOYCE. Shall we have to give up the house?

MRS. DERMOTT. I'm afraid so, darling; you see there are taxes and rates
and things. Tibbets knows all about it--he's coming down to-night.

SYLVIA. Can't Uncle Daniel do anything?

(BOBBIE _sits on table._)

MRS. DERMOTT. He's my only hope. I cabled to South America three weeks