Part 12 (1/2)

Surely you remember little Livvy, Mary?

MISS WILLOUGHBY (_bluntly_). No, Susan, I do not.

MISS SUSAN. I--I must go. I hear Livvy calling.

MISS f.a.n.n.y (_tartly_). I hear nothing but the band. We are not to see your niece?

MISS SUSAN. Another time--to-morrow. Pray rest a little before you depart, Mary. I--I--Phoebe Livvy--the headache----

(_But before she can go another lady enters gaily._)

VALENTINE. Ah, here is Miss Livvy.

(_The true culprit is more cunning than_ MISS SUSAN, _and before they can see her she quickly pulls the strings of her bonnet, which is like_ MISS HENRIETTA'S, _and it obscures her face._)

MISS SUSAN. This--this is my niece, Livvy--Miss Willoughby, Miss Henrietta, Miss f.a.n.n.y Willoughby.

VALENTINE. Ladies, excuse my impatience, but--

MISS WILLOUGHBY. One moment, sir. May I ask, Miss Livvy, how many brothers you have.

PHOEBE. Two.

MISS WILLOUGHBY. I thank you.

(_She looks strangely at_ MISS SUSAN, _and_ MISS PHOEBE _knows that she has blundered._)

PHOEBE (_at a venture_). Excluding the unhappy Thomas.

MISS SUSAN (_clever for the only moment in her life_). We never mention him.

(_They are swept away on the arms of the impatient_ CAPTAIN.)

MISS WILLOUGHBY, MISS HENRIETTA, AND MISS f.a.n.n.y. What has Thomas done?

(_They have no suspicion as yet of what_ MISS PHOEBE _has done; but they believe there is a scandal in the Throssel family, and they will not sleep happily until they know what it is._)

_End of Act II._

ACT III

THE BALL

_A ball, but not the one to which we have seen Miss Susan and Miss Phoebe rush forth upon their career of crime. This is the third of the series, the one of which Patty has foretold with horrid relish that it promises to be specially given over to devilries. The scene is a canvas pavilion, used as a retiring room and for card play, and through an opening in the back we have glimpses of gay uniforms and fair ladies intermingled in the bravery of the dance. There is coming and going through this opening, and also through slits in the canvas. The pavilion is fantastically decorated in various tastes, and is lit with lanterns. A good-natured moon, nevertheless, s.h.i.+nes into it benignly.

Some of the card tables are neglected, but at one a game of quadrille is in progress. There is much movement and hilarity, but none from one side of the tent, where sit several young ladies, all pretty, all appealing and all woeful, for no gallant comes to ask them if he may have the felicity. The nervous woman chaperoning them, and afraid to meet their gaze lest they scowl or weep in reply, is no other than Miss Susan, the most unhappy Miss Susan we have yet seen; she sits there gripping her composure in both hands. Far less susceptible to shame is the brazen Phoebe, who may be seen pa.s.sing the opening on the arm of a cavalier, and flinging her trembling sister a mischievous kiss. The younger ladies note the incident; alas, they are probably meant to notice it, and they cower, as under a blow._

HARRIET (_a sad-eyed, large girl, who we hope found a romance at her next ball_). Are we so disagreeable that no one will dance with us?