Part 5 (1/2)

VALENTINE. Am I not the ideal recruit, ma'am: a man without a wife or a mother or a sweetheart?

MISS SUSAN. No sweetheart?

VALENTINE. Have you one for me, Miss Susan?

PHOEBE (_hastily, lest her sister's face should betray the truth_).

Susan, we shall have to tell him now. You dreadful man, you will laugh and say it is just like Quality Street. But indeed since I met you to-day and you told me you had something to communicate we have been puzzling what it could be, and we concluded that you were going to be married.

VALENTINE. Ha! ha! ha! Was that it.

PHOEBE. So like women, you know. We thought we perhaps knew her.

(_Glancing at the wedding-gown._) We were even discussing what we should wear at the wedding.

VALENTINE. Ha! ha! I shall often think of this. I wonder who would have me, Miss Susan. (_Rising._) But I must be off; and G.o.d bless you both.

MISS SUSAN (_forlorn_). You are going!

VALENTINE. No more mud on your carpet, Miss Susan; no more coverlets rolled into b.a.l.l.s. A good riddance. Miss Phoebe, a last look at the garden.

(_Taking her hand and looking into her face._)

PHOEBE. We shall miss you very much, Mr. Brown.

VALENTINE. There is one little matter. That investment I advised you to make, I am happy it has turned out so well.

PHOEBE (_checking_ MISS SUSAN, _who is about to tell of the loss of the money_). It was good of you to take all that trouble, sir. Accept our grateful thanks.

VALENTINE. Indeed I am glad that you are so comfortably left; I am your big brother. Good-bye again. (_Looks round._) This little blue and white room and its dear inmates, may they be unchanged when I come back. Good-bye.

(_He goes_. MISS SUSAN _looks forlornly at_ PHOEBE, _who smiles pitifully._)

PHOEBE. A misunderstanding; just a mistake. (_She shudders, lifts the wedding-gown and puts it back in the ottoman_. MISS SUSAN _sinks sobbing into a chair._) Don't, dear, don't--we can live it down.

MISS SUSAN (_fiercely_). He is a fiend in human form.

PHOEBE. Nay, you hurt me, sister. He is a brave gentleman.

MISS SUSAN. The money; why did you not let me tell him?

PHOEBE (_flus.h.i.+ng_). So that he might offer to me out of pity, Susan?

MISS SUSAN. Phoebe, how are we to live with the quartern loaf at one and tenpence?

PHOEBE. Brother James----

MISS SUSAN. You know very well that brother James will do nothing for us.

PHOEBE. I think, Susan, we could keep a little school--for genteel children only, of course. I would do most of the teaching.