Mrs. Dot: A Farce

by W. Somerset Maugham

The terrace of Mrs. Dot’s house on the River. There are masses of rose trees in full flower. At the back is the house, covered with creepers.

A table is set out for luncheon, with four chairs.

Miss MacGregor is sitting in a garden chair, sewing. She is an elderly, quiet woman, thin, somewhat angular, good-humoured and amiable.

Mrs. Dot is walking up and down impatiently.

Aunt Eliza.

My dear, why don’t you sit down and rest yourself? I’m sure you’ve walked at least ten miles up and down this terrace.

Mrs. Dot.

I’m in a temper.

Aunt Eliza.

That must be obvious to the meanest intelligence.