Grice. (Coming down R.) God help us, we were. (Takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes.)
Phyllis. Ah--Celia.
Aunt Ida. (In same queer, choked way) Wouldn't it be better if you all left her alone--with me?
Faraday. (Much relieved) Quite so. Quite so. Come, children. (Crosses a few steps up and right. The girls, with Phyllis first, Madge, then Evelyn, form a line and, with bowed heads and folded hands, walk across the morning room door. Tarver rises and walks mournfully up to door.) Come, Admiral.
Grice. (Crossing up R.) No, Faraday. I'll take my leave from this house of grief. (Exits through card room.)
Celia. (Comes L.C.) Wait, Father. (The girls halt in doorway, Tarver above sofa) I only want to say that I don't intend to let this news make any difference--outwardly. You see you never knew what I knew--about him, so I can't expect you to realize all that I've lost. I don't see what's to be gained by any parade of grief, so I'll go to this dinner party to-night and try to act as though nothing whatever had happened.
Tarver. (Beaming) That's splendid of you, Celia. It's much the wisest not to give way to sorrow. But you will get those votes you promised me, won't you?
Faraday. Take him away. Take him away.
(Evelyn whirls Tarver around and hands him unceremoniously off the stage. Faraday exits. There is a pause, then Aunt Ida and Celia burst into hearty laughter. Aunt Ida crosses to table R., sits, and Celia sits on the arm of her chair.)
Celia. Oh, Aunt Ida. Didn't we get through that splendidly?