Mrs. Dermott (sitting). I only knew it myself this morning, I had a letter from Tibbets; he's been through all the papers and things.
Evangeline. Father's papers?
Mrs. Dermott. I suppose so, dear. There wouldn't be any others, would there?
Bobbie (coming down). But mother, what did he say, how did he put it?
Mrs. Dermott. I really forget—but I know it worried me dreadfully.
(Joyce sits on form.)
Evangeline. And we literally haven't a penny?
Mrs. Dermott. Well, only fifteen hundred a year; it's almost as bad.
(Evangeline sits in armchair.)
Joyce. Shall we have to give up the house?