Celia. Poor Colonel Smith! What harm has he ever done? Was ever a career more blameless? He lifted me down from the shelf. Dear Colonel Smith! He died just at the right moment. Dear Colonel Smith. Oh, you know he was a true soldier. He did his work in silence. Well, peace to his ashes. Dear Colonel Smith! Good gracious, dear, it's getting late. It's time to dress for dinner. (She seizes Aunt Ida by the arm, gayly whirls her around, crosses and gets her muff from table.)
(Enter Phyllis through morning room R. Runs down R. of sofa, calling, "Celia." They resume attitudes of grief. Aunt Ida exits through morning room, holding her handkerchief to her eyes.)
Phyllis. (Comes C. to Celia) Celia!
Celia. Yes, dear.
Phyllis. I want you to help me. Bobby is frightfully tired. Don't you think that he and I could cut the Admiral's dinner party and dine quietly at home here? You could make it all right with the Admiral, Celia.
(Enter Martin, with salver and card, L.IE., leaves door open.)
Celia. I'll try, dear. Martin, there will be two for dinner after all.
Phyllis. And may we dine in the little morning room here? (Indicating morning room.)
Celia. In the morning room?
Phyllis. It will be more snug.