The climbers

by Clyde Fitch

Clara. [Lightly.] Good-by!

[Warden goes out Left.

Mrs. Hunter. I don't think we ought to receive Mr. Trotter.

Clara. Pshaw! why not? If there's really any idea of my mar—

[She stops short, silenced by a look from her mother and an indication toward Jordan.

Mrs. Hunter. Show them up, Jordan. [Jordan bows and goes out.] How do I look, dear?

[Arranges her handkerchief.

Clara. [Looking in the mirror.] How do I?

Mrs. Hunter. [With her back to Clara.] I asked you first how I looked!

Clara. [Not observing.] Oh, you're all right, how am I?