Tarver. (Rising and coming L. to stool below table) By Jove! If Celia withdraws from the contest, I'm done.
(Doorbell rings off L. Tarver sits on stool.)
Grice. (Alarmed) Wasn't that the front doorbell?
Madge. (Coming down stage) Who is to break the news to her?
Grice. (Pauses, looks around and suddenly points to Tarver) Tarver.
Tarver. (Springs to his feet in horror) Me? No, no. I think it needs a woman's voice. (Waving his hands feebly up and down in front of him) A woman's gentle fingers.
Faraday. God bless my soul! It isn't going to be broken to her in the deaf and dumb alphabet.
Evelyn. Let's leave Father to break the sad news to her.
Faraday. Me! No, no. I might break down. Someone outside the family would have more command over their emotions. Some old, warm-hearted friend. (Pause, while Grice shows alarm.) Grice, for instance.
Grice. Me! No, no. Ah! I have an idea. (Comes down stage, and Faraday, Madge, Evelyn and Tarver gather about him, Faraday L., Madge L.C., Grice C., Evelyn R.C., Tarver R. Slowly, seriously and impressively) Let us all break it to her--gently--when she comes into the room. I'll give the signal--one, two, three and then we'll all say together and very gently, "Colonel Smith is dead." (Looks for approval and they all turn away in disgust.)