(Profound silence follows. The next course fails to make its appearance. Nobody wanting to take any wine. The brilliant guest sits back in his chair, dogged and speechless. The host and hostess look at each other nervously. Miss Rose goes on with the happy artlessness of a child, as if nobody but her sister was present.)
"Do you know I have made up my mind what I shall give mamma's Susan when she is married?"
"Not a silk dress? That's my present."
"What do you think, dear, of a locket with our hair in it?"
"Sweet."
(The silence of the tomb falls on the dinner-table. The host and hostess begin to get angry. The guests look at each other. The second course persists in not coming in. The brilliant guest suffers from a dry cough. Miss Violet, in her turn, addresses Miss Rose across the table.)
"Rose, I met Ellen Davis to-day."
"Has she heard from Clara?"
"Yes; Clara's uncle and aunt won't let her come."
"Tiresome people! Did you go on to Brompton? Did you see Jane? Is Jane to be depended on?"