(Phyllis sits in chair L. of table R.)
Evelyn. (Rising leisurely, going to lower end of table, taking her fan and crossing to Aunt Ida, speaking as she goes) Not Celia's stockings, Aunt Ida, her green stockings.
Aunt Ida. Eh?
Evelyn. Why, yes. Have you never known of the old country custom which requires an elder sister to wear green stockings at the wedding of her younger sister, if that younger sister has captured a husband first?
Aunt Ida. (Turning her back to Evelyn with disgust) No, I never heard of such rubbish.
Evelyn. (Patronizingly, crossing to head of table R. and speaking as she crosses) And poor old Celia has had to put them on twice already. Once for Madge and once for me, and now comes Phyllis. (Puts her hand on Phyllis's shoulder.)
Phyllis. And if I have to wait to be married until Celia is out of the way---- (Sighs. Evelyn moves above table and down R. of sofa.) Oh, couldn't we think of anybody who might marry Celia? Evelyn, do you think you could do anything about it with Henry Steele or Jimmie Raleigh?
Tarver. (With a brilliant inspiration) If it comes to that, why shouldn't Admiral Grice be got to marry Miss Celia? (Everybody exclaims and throws up their hands in horror.)
(Evelyn sits on sofa.)
Phyllis. (Horrified) Oh, Bobby!