Mr. P. You have many suitors; choose among them.
F. I’m afraid they want my money more than myself, and such a union would cause a lifetime of misery.
Mr. P. You are mistaken. There is Alfred Percival. He would be a kind husband. It is my wish that you marry him. Promise me that you will do so.
F. I cannot promise; it is too sudden.
Mr. P. Think of it, then. One week from to-night I will visit you again. (Passes slowly out into left-hand room.)
F. (musing). Well, that’s curious. I’ve heard ghost stories of almost every description, but never before did I hear of a ghost making love. For, though he intended to personate a spirit, he certainly spoke of himself. And I suppose he is congratulating himself on having completely deceived me. (Suddenly.) I’d like to know what he and mother are saying about it. And why can’t I? They are only in the next room.
(She rises and creeps cautiously to the door, which stands ajar. Mr. P. has laid aside his ghostly covering and is in the act of passing his wig to Mrs. L. Flora listens.)
Mrs. L. Then you think she did not suspect you?
Mr. P. Apparently not. She appeared quite startled at first, but soon regained her composure.
Mrs. L. I suppose it would be better not to allude to the subject to-morrow.