PHOEBE (beginning to understand). Cloak? You mean, Henrietta—you mean, Fanny—
MISS FANNY. 'Twas wicked of us, my dear, but we—we thought that you and Miss Livvy were the same person. (They have evidently been stalking CHARLOTTE in MISS PHOEBE'S cloak. MISS SUSAN shudders, but MISS PHOEBE utters a cry of reproach, and it is some time before they can persuade her to forgive them. It is of course also some time before we can forgive MISS PHOEBE.) Phoebe, you look so pretty. Are they paying you no attentions, my dear?
(PHOEBE is unable to resist these delightful openings. The imploring looks MISS SUSAN gives her but add to her enjoyment. It is as if the sense of fun she had caged a moment ago were broke loose again.)
PHOEBE. Alas, they think of none but Livvy. They come to me merely to say that they adore her.
MISS HENRIETTA. Surely not Captain Brown?
PHOEBE. He is infatuate about her.
MISS FANNY. Poor Phoebe!
(They make much of her, and she purrs naughtily to their stroking, with lightning peeps at MISS SUSAN. Affronted Providence seeks to pay her out by sending ENSIGN BLADES into the tent. Then the close observer may see MISS PHOEBE'S heart sink like a bucket in a well. MISS SUSAN steals from the tent.)
MISS HENRIETTA. Mr. Blades, I have been saying that if I were a gentleman I would pay my addresses to Miss Phoebe much rather than to her niece.
BLADES. Ma'am, excuse me.