[Blore, the butler, a venerable-looking person, with rather a clerical suggestion about his dress, enters by the window.

Blore.

[Benignly.] The two soldier gentlemen have just rode hup, Miss Salome.

[The girls clutch each other’s hands.

Salome.

You mean Major Tarver?

Sheba.

And Mr. Darbey. They have called to inquire after poor Papa.

Salome.

Poor Papa!