Part 3 (1/2)

Indeed, Salome! Then why do you keep me in short skirts?

SALOME.

Why! you cruel girl! You know I can't lengthen you till I'm married!

[_BLORE, the butler, a venerable-looking person, with rather a clerical suggestion about his dress, enters by the window._

BLORE.

[_Benignly._] The two soldier gentlemen have just rode hup, Miss Salome.

[_The girls clutch each other's hands._

SALOME.

You mean Major Tarver?

SHEBA.

And Mr. Darbey. They have called to inquire after poor Papa.

SALOME.

Poor Papa!

BLORE.

Shall I show them hin, Miss Sheba?

SHEBA.

Yes, Blore, dear, and hang your h's on the hat-stand.

[BLORE _laughs sweetly at SHEBA and shakes his fingers at her playfully._

BLORE.

[_Vindictively, behind their backs._] 'Ussies!

[_He goes out._

SALOME.

Am I all right, Sheba?

SHEBA.

Yes. Am I?

SALOME.