PHOEBE. Oh, dear! (She has quite forgotten her own troubles now.) Susan, you will soon be well again. Dear, let us occupy our minds. Shall we draw up the advertisement for the reopening of the school?
MISS SUSAN. I do so hate the school.
PHOEBE. Come, dear, come, sit down. Write, Susan. (Dictating.) 'The Misses Throssel have the pleasure to announce——'
MISS SUSAN. Pleasure! Oh, Phoebe.
PHOEBE. 'That they will resume school on the 5th of next month. Music, embroidery, the backboard, and all the elegancies of the mind. Latin—shall we say algebra?'
MISS SUSAN. I refuse to write algebra.
PHOEBE. —for beginners.
MISS SUSAN. I refuse. There is only one thing I can write; it writes itself in my head all day. 'Miss Susan Throssel presents her compliments to the Misses Willoughby and Miss Henrietta Turnbull, and requests the honour of their presence at the nuptials of her sister Phoebe and Captain Valentine Brown.'
PHOEBE. Susan!
MISS SUSAN. Phoebe! (A door is heard banging.) He has returned!