Mrs. T. (sinking into a chair). He can fill his pockets with my spoons.
Mr. T. The police will soon empty them. (Goes to desk.) I must call up the police station. Where is that telephone book? (Picks up Hilda's letter.) What is this?
(Opens letter.)
Mrs. T. (rising and going to desk). Hilda's writing! How strange! Read it, Horace; my nerves are all unstrung.
Mr. T. (reading). "Dear Father: I am tired of living in the past and being old fashioned and hearing about the teapot. I want to live for myself and have friends that don't belong to the best families. I am going to Cousin Anne's in New York; she will find me something to do that will keep me busy and happy. Don't worry about me. With love, Hilda."
Mrs. T. Gone! My dear child! What will become of her? (Sinks into a chair.)
Sue (wiping her eyes). She has gone to New York alone—at night! (Cries audibly.)
Prof. G. (trying to comfort Sue). My dear Miss Templeton, do not let your feelings overcome you.
Mr. T. (glaring at Prof. G.). Why doesn't some one do something? Speak!
Prof. G. (in embarrassment). Why—er—this is most unfortunate!