Alice. But, mother, this is an entirely different sort of person. You must see her, for she is coming up stairs now.
Mrs. L. Oh, dear, dear! Am I never to have any peace?
(Enter Lucy, disguised. A bloomer costume (a bathing-dress will answer the purpose), an old-fashioned “front” of hair with side curls, a straw hat and parasol.)
Lucy. My dear child, which is your afflicted parent!
Alice. This is her.
Lucy. (Seats herself, L. of Mrs. L.) She does, indeed, seem afflicted! That care-worn face, those weak and feeble limbs, are sure signs of the presence of disease.
Mrs. L. Here is one who understands me at last.
Lucy. The power has been given me to heal the sick. (Twitches her right arm.)
Mrs. L. Mercy! what’s the matter?