FANNY. Surely that’s dear Doctor Prettywell’s voice!
Enter DOCTOR at C.
DOCTOR. Ah! my dear young friend, delighted to see you!
FANNY. Not more than I am to see you, doctor!
DOCTOR. But let me look at you. How we’re grown! I declare we’re quite a young woman!
FANNY. Yes, doctor.
DOCTOR. And a very pretty one, too!
FANNY. Yes, doctor.
DOCTOR (looking intently at FANNY). She’s the very image of her mother as she was thirty years ago; the same soft blue eyes, before she took to spectacles, the same fairy form, before it filled out, the same alabaster brow, before the wrinkles set in!
FANNY (aside). How earnestly he looks at me! I hope I hain’t fascinated him as well as Sir Marmaduke! (Suddenly.) Goodness me! what if he should be the “youthful doctor” mamma was speaking about? (DOCTOR looks at her again and gives a loud sigh.) What a sigh! It must be he. He may still have some lingering affection for her; the flame may not be quite burnt out; there may be a tiny spark left which a little gentle blowing may rekindle into a blaze. It isn’t very likely; still, I may as well try what a little “blowing” may do.