Mrs. Dermott. I'm afraid so, darling; you see there are taxes and rates and things. Tibbets knows all about it—he's coming down to-night.
Sylvia. Can't Uncle Daniel do anything?
(Bobbie sits on table.)
Mrs. Dermott. He's my only hope. I cabled to South America three weeks ago. I didn't know the worst then, but I felt I wanted some one to lean on—after all, his cheque was a great help.
Joyce. Is he very, very rich?
Mrs. Dermott. He must be, he's a bachelor, and he has a ranch and a mine and things.
Bobbie. Has he answered your cable?
Mrs. Dermott. No, but of course he may have been out prospecting or broncho-breaking or something when it arrived. They live such restless lives out there—oh, no, I don't think he'll fail me, he's my only brother.
Evangeline. I wonder how much he has got.
Mrs. Dermott. Perhaps Tibbets will know—we'll ask him.