Celia. (Reading letter that she has opened) "Dear Sir or Madam: Having secured our unparalleled stock of sherry wine on a falling market----" (Drops envelope and opens another. Reads) "Dear Madam: You are cordially invited to attend our spring opening of household linens--"
Faraday. (Coming from card room) Madge, you will play?
Madge. No, thanks, I'll finish my letter. (Who has been talking to Aunt Ida, goes back to writing table up R. and resumes writing.)
Faraday. (Disappointedly) And Phyllis doesn't.
Aunt Ida. Well, there's Celia.
Faraday. (Coming down to Celia,) God bless my soul! Of course, why did I forget?
Celia. Oh--that's all right, Father. (Cheerfully opening her letters) It's being done, you know.
Faraday. (To Tarver and Phyllis, who are seated on sofa, holding hands) Now, then, you two, none of that! No holding hands! (They rise quickly, looking embarrassed and facing father.) You are; not engaged yet, you know.
Celia. (Happily) Engaged? Phyllis and Mr. Tarver?
Faraday. (Reassuringly) No, no, certainly not. Nothing of the kind. Cheer up, my dear. (Patting Celia on the shoulder) You don't suppose I would allow a chick like Phyllis to marry with you on my hands still?