Part 22 (1/2)

FARADAY. Get some vinegar.

(AUNT IDA _whoops_.)

EVELYN. No, smelling salts.

(AUNT IDA _whoops_.)

TARVER. (_Rising_) Oh, hold it upside down!

FARADAY. Nonsense, that's for drowning.

TARVER. Here, I know a remedy.

(MADGE _takes_ TARVER'S _place at_ L. _of choir and_ TARVER _goes up above chair, gets spray from table, leans over_ AUNT IDA'S _shoulder and sprays her forehead_.)

SMITH. (_Comes down_ C.) Slap her hands hard. That always brings them to.

(PHYLLIS _and_ MADGE _slap_ AUNT IDA'S _hands vigorously_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Pus.h.i.+ng them away_) It doesn't do anything of the kind.

(MADGE _goes_ L.C. _and helps_ EVELYN _on with evening wraps_.)

SMITH. There, what did I tell you? (_Goes up stage and to table_ L.)

(TARVER _goes_ R. _above sofa_. PHYLLIS _goes_ R. _between sofa and fender_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Rises weakly_) Oh--oh--oh--oh--oh--oh! This must be broken to Celia.

FARADAY. (_Going up and getting his coat and hat from piano stool_) Celia already knows.

PHYLLIS. (_Pouting_) She and Colonel Vavasour are going to stay home and dine together. (_Goes up to_ TARVER _and talks_.)

AUNT IDA. (_Gasping_) Dine together!! And discuss S-S-Smith!! (CELIA _enters in mourning--black shawl and dress--door_ R.I. _She closes door, comes a few steps on stage and stands with folded hands and downcast eyes_. AUNT IDA _is now thoroughly bewildered_.) Celia, you're in black! (_Waves her hand up and down weakly_.)

CELIA. Yes, dear. I made a mistake when I said I shouldn't allow this news to interfere. I was wrong. Colonel Vavasour has shown me how deeply he was grieved by my neglect of the trappings of distress.

(NOTE: _The bodice of the black dress_ CELIA _wears, which is completely hidden by the black shawl, should be of some bright color, to be disclosed in Act III_.)