Mrs. G. (L.). Ah, Kate, you here? I would like to speak to your father alone a moment, my dear.
Kate. Very well, mother. (Aside.) Poor father so worn and harassed. I know I could lighten his labors. Why is he so obstinate? (Exit L. U. E.)
Mr. G. (without looking at her). Well, Mrs. Grovenor, what is it—money? You can't have it.
Mrs. G. Not for myself. But Eugene is in great distress. He says he must have five hundred dollars at once, and goes on in a way that is frightful.
Mr. G. (looking over shoulder). Five hundred dollars! Do you see that note, due next week and not a cent raised to pay it with? Do you see these bills? Go back and teach your son to earn his money.
Mrs. G. (putting handkerchief to eyes). Oh, would I not if I could! But alas! I am helpless and Eugene is going to ruin!
Mr. G. (writing). There, do not snivel. You have an easy time enough. So spare a man at least your everlasting whimpering!
Mrs. G. An easy time? Bound, fettered, helpless, is that easy?
Mr. G. (turning in his chair and staring at her). You are in an extraordinary mood to-day, Mrs. Grovenor! Bound, fettered—clothed, fed, given all the luxuries of life without lifting your own white hands, you mean. Helpless? To raise five hundred dollars to pay Eugene's—gambling—debts—doubtless. Who has been talking such stuff to you? Kate?
Mrs. G. Sneer if you will, but it is true that of Kate I have learned to think upon things I never did before, and to believe that, had I been differently educated, had my life been broadened instead of narrowed, had I been taught to be independent, and to make my matrimonial choice from love alone, I might have been a better mother to my daughters, and guided the steps of my son away from ruin and dishonor. (Exit, L. U. E.)